#non-graphic smut | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mrsparkjimin18 · 8 months

Text

❄️Snowed In❄️

❄️ pairing: non-idol! neighbor jungkook x ofc

❄️ genre/au: angst, smut, annoying neighbor au

❄️ rating: M

❄️ wordcount: 10694

❄️ summary - Gabriella has always worked hard, rigorously devoting herself to studying, building her own company from the ground up, and finally building the first house of many on a private, wooded cul-de-sac. She was comfortable with the neighbors she’d grown relationships with over the last few years, life was still, peaceful, as she’d always dreamt it would be – that is, until he moved in next door. What happens when two annoying neighbors end up trapped together with nowhere to run?

⚠︎ chapter warnings: profanity, graphic seggsual content, alcohol consumption, drunk seggs, ONS, possible regret

S/N: This story was written as part of the A Love Like War Writing Event hosted by Sammi of @bangtanwritershq

I'd like to give a special thanks to @downbad4yoongi for lending me her beta skills and helping me to perfect this story!!! A very special thanks to @bangtanwritershq fellow execs for being my rock and keeping me motivated through all of my trying times!! Yall the real G.O.A.T.'s!!!!!

“Why the silent treatment for over a week? I thought–” Gabriella is abruptly cut off.

“You thought what? We had something special?” The sarcasm rolls easily off of his tongue. “It was nice…no, it was fucking great, but it really doesn’t change anything, does it? You’d been at my throat constantly, one night of passion doesn’t change much.”

“Jungkook, we cleared the air, agreed to let bygones be bygones…are you saying we didn’t?” Irritation radiates in her tone, but Gabriella remains as calm as reasonably possible.

“We were drinking, we were basically trapped together, things happened, but when I woke up the next morning…” Jungkook sighs deeply, “I mean, what do you want me to say? Should we just call it a mistake?.”

“A mistake? Transposing numbers in your address, that’s a mistake. Forgetting to add an ingredient to a recipe, that’s a mistake. Fucking someone the way you fucked me?! That’s not a mistake!”

“Was it that good?” Jungkook teases.

“Was it…Fuck you, Kook! Fuck you! Is everything a damn joke to you? I thought you were different, but I guess I was wrong!” Anger flows through her blood.

“I don’t understand why you’re getting mad! Did we decide that we’re now obligated to speak to each other because we fucked? No! You’ve been rude to me since I moved in, but now you think we’re besties? It happened, it was phenomenal, but I don’t get why you’re so angry.” Jungkooks usual bright doe eyes become dim.

“I’m mad because…” She’s unable to find the words, unable to express how she really feels deep inside, not anger but hurt. “I opened my doors to you, even though you annoyed the shit out of me, I opened myself to you and now I feel trampled on.”

He sees the tears welling in her eyes, moving his gaze from her to the quiet street, “I’m sorry,” He replies as he stands and walks toward the door, “but that wasn't my intention.”

“Then what was your intention?” Her voice breaks, the emotions building within her on the brink of eruption.

With his back turned to her, hand on the storm door handle, he mumbles nearly incoherently, “I don’t know.” He walks into the house, closing the door in her face.

“MOTHERFUCKER!!!!”

The bright sun slowly creeps above the large trees surrounding the eastern end of the cul-de-sac. The sound of birds chirping, insects chittering, wind blowing through the leaves of the thick forest create a peaceful ambience – which is abruptly interrupted by the sound of a large vehicle.

Gabriella peers through her large picture window, watching the large moving truck travel down the road and into the driveway of the recently sold home next door. She was sad to see her long-time neighbors and friends leave – but she’s now more interested in who’s moving into their home.

She watches closely as three men exit the front of the moving truck, “When’s the new owner gonna arrive?” She mumbles to herself while admiring the driver.

The men are wearing coveralls, but the driver has the top half down and the arms tied around his snatched waist. He bears a form fitting gray tank top, his chest nearly bursting through the ribbed material, his biceps bulge as he opens the back of the moving van, but the sleeve of tattoos decorating his arm is what catches her eye.

Sipping coffee from her steaming mug, she enjoys the view, as the three men haul furniture and boxes into the once empty home. Dawn becomes high noon, Gabriella finishes a virtual meeting with an overseas client and returns to her chaise lounge nestled in front of her large picture window.

The men appear to be on a lunch break, sitting in the driveway against the garage door, shielding themselves from the sun. Her eyes naturally drawn back to Mr. Tattoo, his hair becoming wavy from his sweat. The cool, mid-March air contrasts with the heat from his body, made apparent by the steam rising from his head. After gulping down the rest of his water, the three men get back to work moving more items from the large truck.

High noon fades as dusk begins to creep in and the men finally carry the last few boxes into the home. Before sitting down to eat dinner, she makes her way to the living room window to draw the curtains closed and that’s when she notices something interesting – only two men leave in the moving van and the tattooed man stands in the driveway waving goodbye.

That’s odd she thinks to herself before walking back to the table to enjoy her meal in peaceful solitude. As she eats she comes to the decision that, per her usual neighborly welcoming duties, she’ll whip up a ready-baked casserole in the morning and bring it to the home as a kind gesture – and to determine if the moving man is still in the home.

Before the sun rises, Gabriella’s in the kitchen putting together her neighborhood block party favorite, no peek chicken, along with instructions on how to cook it. She scours her closet for an outfit, opting for her favorite pinstripe navy slim ankle trousers, white tank top, cropped navy cashmere sweater and a pair of navy block heels. She pins half of her hair up in a neat messy bun and curls the bottom half into loose spirals. She quickly applies the basic makeup – powder, eyeliner, lipstick and lightly dusts her cheekbones with blush. Before heading over she grabs her Versace Bright Crystal perfume, bursting two pumps in the air and walking through to apply it as sparingly as possible.

She grabs the casserole dish from the refrigerator and walks to the window to peek through her curtains, which to her surprise, there’s still not a vehicle in the driveway. Rather than assume things, she opts to believe the new homeowner parked their vehicle in the garage.

She walks out the front door and makes her way to the neighbors house, the butterflies in her stomach dissipate as she approaches the front porch. Before she’s able to knock, the door swings open, revealing a man stretching on the other side of the glass storm door wearing nothing but a pair of Calvin Klein boxer briefs.

She attempts to set her eyes on anything other than him, however, the familiar tattooed arm captures her attention. Her gaze trails down his arm extended above his head to his perfectly sculpted torso. Just as she’s giving in to the temptation to continue down to the waistband emblazoned with the familiar CK logo, the man clears his throat, averting her attention to his face.

“Can I help you?” He asks running his fingers through his chin length, wavy hair to pull it away from his face.

The brisk air doesn’t stop the sweat from beading above her lip, her knees begin to feel weak and she can’t find the words.

“I’m…Umm, I’m your neighbor, Gabriella. I live next door and wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood. I would’ve stopped by yesterday, but I wasn’t sure if you lived here. Do you live here? Of course you do! What a dumb question! You just opened the door, in your underwear, so this has to be your home. Anyway, I made a ready-bake no peek chicken casserole for you. I wrote the instructions for it, I just figured it would be easier to just throw this in the oven rather than go grocery shopping the day after you move in and I’m so sorry, I’m just rambling away, what’s your name?” She laughs nervously, deep down inside she wants to quickly set down the Pyrex dish and sprint back to her house.

He opens the door, giving her a clearer view of him, “Jungkook, my name’s Jungkook. Nice to meet you, Ella. It’s okay if I call you Ella, right?” She smiles and nods her head. “Thank you for the food. I planned on ordering delivery, but I can tell this’ll taste much better.” He reaches for the dish and shoots her a smile that nearly melts her – a sharp jaw and manly dimples, pearly white teeth, always the first features she notices about a man and he has them. He stares at her with his large doe eyes, still holding the door open, shivering and his teeth chattering.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry! It’s cold and I’m holding you up! You’re welcome, and again, welcome to the neighborhood! I look forward to getting to know you!” Without waiting for a response, she quickly turns and leaves his porch making a hasty retreat back to her house.

Once she’s back inside her warm home, warm blood tints her cheeks and she cups her face in her hands. She’s well aware that it’s not from the warmth of the heat flowing through the house, it’s a feeling she hasn’t enjoyed in quite a while – desire.

She can picture his tattooed arm wrapping around her body, pulling her to him as he gazes into her eyes and kisses her aggressively. The way his muscular body would feel on top of hers, skin to skin, as he ravages her sense of reality with his manhood.

Letting out a deep sigh, she laughs to herself, because she knows very well that she has no time to get involved with anyone. Running her company occupies more of her time than she prefers, yet the long-term benefits outweigh a lack of social life. On the other hand, a couple of hours on a night or two getting hot and heavy with her new hot neighbor would be a convenient opportunity to satisfy her needs.

She pushes the thought to the back of her mind, keeping it there for future reference, if the opportunity happens to arise. Gabriella changes into something a little more comfortable, trading the ankle trousers for satin wide-leg pajama bottoms, hanging the cropped sweater back in her closet, and replacing her heels with her favorite pair of Pink slippers.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

After a long day of cleaning, she retreats to her backyard oasis, kindling a small fire in the stone pit and pouring a glass of wine. The wind whispering through the trees in the forest, owls hooting to one another, insects buzzing in the distance are what compose a relaxing atmosphere for her. She can escape the hustle and bustle of a lengthy commute, overlapping chatter at a restaurant and the constant ringing and dinging of her phone when she withdraws to her sanctuary.

She rests her head back against the patterned cushion of the patio furniture and closes her eyes, taking in the melodic singing of nature – until her serenity is interrupted by the loudest bass drop she’s heard outside of a concert.

“What the fuck is that?” She grumbles to herself. Following the sound, she’s led to the side of her yard where Jungkook just moved in. As she nears the fence, she can hear people laughing and talking louder than necessary.

Although it’s rather irritating to have her quiet night interrupted by his party, she decides to not piss and moan, he did just move in and she understands he’s deserving of a housewarming party. Walking back toward the patio, she grabs her wine and heads inside.

“He could’ve invited me.” She pouts on her way into her room. Rather than dwell on the fact that he completely disregarded her kind gesture and left her out, she plays her favorite sleeping playlist and quickly falls into a deep slumber.

Gabriella’s business has been extremely busy, so she’s had to bring boatloads of work home, however finishing her tasks the last few weeks has not been easy thanks to her gradual irritation with her new annoying neighbor, Jungkook.

Every weekend since he’s moved in he’s thrown a huge party, ten to fifteen cars parked around the cul-de-sac every Friday or Saturday, music blasting until just before dawn. This morning was almost the final straw for her when she found a drunken party-goer peeing in between their houses, luckily for the idiot and Jungkook, he came outside and scolded the man for being a pig.

Nevertheless, her patience was wearing thin, but she figures she can give it the old college try and invite him to her holiday barbecue she’s having next weekend. While she assumes he’s still sleeping, she walks over to leave the invite at his front door.

Carefully opening the storm door, she drops the invite in and gently shuts it and attempts to make a quick retreat. Her escape is unexpectedly spoiled by a familiar voice.

“What’s this?” His hoarse voice barely heard through the storm door.

“It’s an invite, I’m having a barbecue next weekend and figured I should extend an invitation to my new neighbor. Just a friendly gesture from me to you.” Her smug tone isn’t as subtle as she thinks it is.

“Oh, thanks. I’ll try to make it, but I don’t usually plan my weekend in advance, I’m more of a go with the flow type of person.”

She can’t help but find her disdain for this man dissipating as she once again ogles over his half naked body. Unlike the first time they met, he’s wearing sweatpants and it’s evident he has nothing on underneath them. Hanging on his hips, her eyes trail from the waistband to the hanging strings, noticing what appears to be the outline of his generously sized member.

Biting her bottom lip, she lets out a sigh, “Well, I hope you can make it. Spring is the perfect time to enjoy the outdoors around here, our summers are short, hot and humid, so it’s difficult to enjoy the outside during those months…think about it and let me know what you like to drink, that is, if you decide to come.”

“Of course…and I want to apologize about the parties. If you ever have a problem, feel free to come over and let me know.” He shoots her that smile and she melts.

“Oh, it’s no problem at all.” She lies through her teeth and smiles, nodding her head before walking away.

Back at home, she can’t help but laugh at herself, “What the fuck is wrong with you ‘Oh, it’s no problem at all’ my ass!!! If that man wasn’t so damn attractive I’d give him a piece of my mind!”

Once again, rather than dwell on her obvious desperation to get laid, she gets busy focusing on the last few documents she has to prepare for her meeting with the board of directors Monday morning.

Before the afternoon begins to fade into dusk, Gabriella finishes completing her preparations for Monday morning and settles in her backyard oasis once again. Replacing the wine with tea, she relaxes while listening to the tranquil evening song of the night wind.

Just as she’s about to retreat inside, a familiar voice calls to her, “Ella.” Jungkook’s voice is surprising, almost harmonious with the peaceful night sounds.

“Jungkook, you startled me! I’m surprised to see you in my yard, since there’s not a huge party or anything.” She feels liberated using such a sarcastic tone.

Jungkook giggles, acknowledging he understands her mockery, “I was on my balcony and noticed you sitting out back by yourself. Just coming to say hi as my neighborly duty.”

“Well, if you’d watched a little longer, you would’ve noticed I was heading back inside.”

“Well, I see that now, maybe next time.” He begins to head back toward the open gate.

“Jungkook…” She waits until he turns back toward her, “would you care for a cup of tea?”

“Sure.” He replies nonchalantly and strolls over to her patio.

“Okay, I’ll only be a minute.” She disappears into the house, returning about five minutes later. She hands him his tea and sits on the patio chair across from him, blowing into her mug before taking a sip. “You didn’t have any plans for tonight?”

“I told you earlier, I don’t like to make plans. Today was one of those days I felt like relaxing, so here I am.” He sips his tea, lolling his head back to take in the view of the clear sky as the distant rays from the sun tint the sky with warm orange and soft pink tones . “It’s really peaceful out here. I’m used to living in the city, the hustle and bustle of feet shuffling along the sidewalk, noisy traffic, loud music…but here I’m able to attain serenity.”

“That’s why I chose this cul-de-sac.” Gabriella adds. “It’s…private, quiet and surrounded by nature. Aside from the fact there are only five houses and outside of it, there’s not another property for at least two miles.”

“Five houses?” Jungkook asks in confusion.

“There’s a house on the other side of mine, but you wouldn’t notice it if you don’t pay attention. It’s nestled deep in the woods with a gravel driveway, but it’s covered in leaves. It’s actually a beautiful house, it’s unfortunate it wasn’t for sale when I looked here, because I would’ve bought it.” She sighs and sips her tea.

“I never noticed it. It’s probably so peaceful, I’m sure the trees create a sound barrier.” Jungkook gazes off into the direction of the hidden home as he finishes his tea. “Well, I suppose I should get going. Thank you for the tea, Ella.”

“It was my pleasure,” she replies. “We should do this again, that is, if you feel the need for peace and serenity again.”

“Maybe.” His voice deep and seductive, Gabriella's body responds with a buzz of electricity that raises prickly goosebumps on her arms.

“Don’t be a stranger, we are neighbors after all.”

“I won’t,” he responds before heading back to his house.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

The week passes by in a flash, full of meetings and business dinners, making Gabriella that much more excited for the weekend to finally arrive. She loves holiday weekends and gathering with friends and family, she doesn’t feel so alone – but inside she’s secretly hoping Jungkook will attend.

Gabriella finishes setting up her outdoor oasis to accommodate her guests, gives her home a “once-over”, and prepares to welcome her guests as they arrive.

Car by car, her friends and family arrive, filling the backyard with cheerful banter. Everything seems to be perfect, except for one factor – Jungkook still has yet to show up. Gabriella continuously checks her watch, peeks toward the side of the house and even goes as far as to check out the living room window, all to no avail.

She returns to her guests, pushing back the nagging irritation that began to settle in, that is, until the powerful bass drops from the other side of the fence. Her guests attempt to talk loudly over the music, but she insists they move the party into the house. Once everyone’s inside, she makes her move, slipping away on the side of the house, her adrenaline rushing as she approaches his front door.

She can see him through the storm window, entertaining a woman who clearly came for the attention with her barely there, strapless mini dress. He laughs at whatever the woman is saying, fueling her rage even more and she pounds on the tempered glass.

He excuses himself and begins walking toward the door, flashing that smile that can usually make her melt, but not tonight.

“Oh hey, Ella,” he greets her as he steps out onto the porch. “Did you need something?”

She can’t believe the audacity of this man, not only did he completely ignore her invitation, but he also decided to throw another huge party on the same night as her get-together.

“Oh hey?” She snarls, her blood boiling with each passing second. “It’s one thing if you didn’t want to attend my barbecue, but to throw another fucking party on the same night is pretentious!”

Jungkook smacks his forehead, “Oh fuck! I forgot about it, I swear! A few of my friends from college messaged me the day after I received your invite and let me know they’d be in town. I wanted to come, but I haven’t seen them in a couple of years. I’m really sorry.”

“Sorry? Sorry?!” She yells heatedly. “I was okay letting you slide with the first eighteen billion parties you had every damn weekend since you’ve moved in, but this right here crosses the line! I work hard every day of the week! Seven days a week! I rarely get the opportunity to unwind with friends and family, this is one of two events I cater at my home every year, and you ruined it!”

“I ruined it?” Jungkook chuckles, “I didn’t ruin shit, you came over here of your own volition, am I right? You left your party to come over here! You ruined your own fucking party! As a matter of fact, I’ll get back to my party where we’re actually having fun, you can go enjoy your stiff ass guests.”

He turns and walks back in the house, making sure to slam the door behind him – now she’s furious.

“Game on, you annoying prick,” she sneers before returning to her home. She goes inside and puts on her game face, continuing to entertain her guests, plotting her next move in her subconscious.

A couple of weeks after her interrupted party, Gabriella sits in the backyard with her college friend, Taeyhung.

“So, how are things with the neighbor after your party duel?” Taehyung jokingly asks.

“It wasn’t a duel,” she scoffs, “I even invited him to the party, but he instead threw a party of his own. He’s so damn annoying, but that’s not what you’re here to talk about.”

Taehyung chuckles, “You’re right, back to business. Did you have a vision for the pool design, or do you trust my artistic instincts?”

“Tae, I know you,” she chuckles softly, “I don’t want anything extravagant. Simple. Elegant. Like me. A basic lap pool, with a seven, no, eight foot splash pad at the top for lounging and a mid-sized hot tub on the opposite end. Simple.”

Taehyung stands, taking a sip of his tea as he looks over her yard. Making a square with his thumbs and forefingers, he searches the yard for the best placement. She loves watching her friend when he transforms into designer mode, his eyes twinkle with excitement and he turns to her with that perfect boxy smile.

“There,” he points to an area of her large yard, “I think that spot would be perfect. There’s no slope, it leaves enough green space to gather outside of the pool and I can envision the beautiful simplicity of the pool.”

“Let’s do it! How soon can you start?” Gabriella shrieks in excitement.

“I’ll get the approval to dig within the next couple of days, this has to start sooner than later, so you can enjoy your pool before the temperature drops. With only eight weeks of Summer here, the pool will be ready for use just a couple of weeks before fall begins.”

“Tae, if it can’t happen until the spring, I’m okay with that. No need to put that much pressure on yourself.”

“It’s no pressure at all. I know you’ve been under a lot of stress, I’m even going to add a few upgrades for free.” He winks at her before finishing, “I’m going to make sure it’s heated so the water is always a pleasant temperature, an automatic pool cover and color changing pool lights. You’re my friend and if you hadn’t supported me in the beginning, I don’t know if my business would be this successful.”

“Tae, you really don’t–”

“I do. I’ll add a slide coming from your balcony if you’d like!”

They both laugh and make their way back over to the patio and continue into the night reminiscing on the carefree days of college. As the evening sky begins to fill with stars, they finally decide to call it a night.

“I’ll call you when I get the approval to dig and begin working on your pool immediately, until then, Goodnight Gabriella.”

“Goodnight Tae.”

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

With a few weeks left until summer, the digging for her pool and settling of the dirt is ready for concrete to be laid. Gabriella strolls around her future pool, imagining the parties she will have, even able to cater to her family and friends' children, her children one day, she’s enlightened at the thought.

Making her way back to the house, she hears loud machine noises coming from Jungkook's side of the fence. Her curious nature gets the best of her and she heads to the fence, peering through the small gaps in the wood. She can see a small excavator digging in the yard, but what she sees next bothers her the most – Taehyung and Jungkook looking over blueprints.

“What the fuck?” She curses under her breath. “Is he having a pool installed too? Whatever, it’s his property, he can do what he wants.”

Rather than make a fuss, she’s happy Taehyung is getting business and making money, supporting her friend is much more important than her own personal grievances.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Three weeks into summer and her pool is finally ready for use. She invites her siblings and their children to enjoy the pool. They come nearly everyday for a week, even while she’s at work and nothing could bring her more joy.

She invites some of her closest friends for a swim on the weekend and she’s ready to let loose. After a short dip in the pool they relax on lounge chairs in the splash pad and she gives them the latest update on her annoying neighbor.

“Then this douchebag installs a pool with waterpark amenities! He even has a slide that comes off of his balcony into the pool! If I didn’t know any better, I’d believe he was trying to upstage me every chance he gets, just fucking annoying!” Gabriella rolls her eyes and slams the remaining wine in her glass.

“Listen, Gabs, don’t fret yourself with the likes of that man! He’s clearly trying to overcompensate for his shortcomings, if you know what I mean.” Her best friend, Jisoo, laughs hysterically at her own joke.

“Ji, I don’t think he has any shortcomings in that department, more of just an immature outlook on life…one that irks my very being, but I’ll just continue to brush him and his childlike ways off.”

Their conversation is cut short by the sudden loud music coming from Jungkook’s yard, “So this is what you’re talking about,” Jisoo scoffs. “How the fuck are we supposed to relax poolside with–” Her eyes widen as she stares over the fence.

Gabriella follows her gaze and sees her neighbor, completely naked – and clearly well endowed – at the top of his slide. She can’t tear her eyes away from his body as the setting sun tints his sun-kissed skin with a pink glow, but as much as she’s enjoying this view she’s also filled with rage.

“That’s fucking it!” She immediately rises from her chair and runs to her neighbors to really give him a piece of her mind.

She bypasses the front door and heads to the other side of his house, opening his gate and running to the backyard just as he launches from the slide into the pool. To her surprise, he’s alone, but that’s not what’s important.

“Jungkook!” She screams his name as he emerges from the water, startling him and he just smiles.

He swims to the shallow end of the pool and gets out, quickly grabbing his towel and loosely wrapping it around his waist.

“Ella! I can turn the music down, I didn’t even realize you were in your pool.” He smiles as he gives her exposed body a once over. She feels naked having chosen the skimpiest thong bikini she has, clearly not expecting to meet him like this.

“I don’t give a shit about the music, I’ve become immune to it.” She snarls, “What I’m concerned about is the fact that you decided to come out onto your balcony in your birthday suit.”

“Did it make you uncomfortable or maybe it made you hot and bothered?” He jokes.

“I…ugh, fuck no! What if my nieces and nephews were over again to swim? Did you think about that? There are families in this neighborhood and your balcony is viewable from both backyards on either side of your house! You really need to grow the fuck up!”

She storms off without another word and returns to her friends. They don’t say a word, but they’ve heard everything she’s said. They suggest moving the party into the house and to put this incident behind her in hopes that he’s learned his lesson and it won’t happen again.

Gabriella has spent most of the summer enjoying her pool and fall is beginning to settle in, luckily Taehyung installed a pool heater. It’s quite refreshing to leave the cool night air and blanket herself in the security of the warm water. Stepping out of the pool and back into the cool air is exhilarating.

Hurrying back into the house, she changes into warm, dry clothes and relaxes in her chaise lounge after her tea finishes steeping. While looking out at her front yard, she realizes it’s in desperate need of landscaping.

She contacts a well-known landscaping company and schedules an overhaul of her yard – removal of all dead and dying plants, shrubbery upgrade from the dried up sprinter boxwood to Korean Spice Viburnum, petunias planted under the large weeping willow and a Tiered Versailles Fountain surrounded by winter boxwoods.

She excitedly hangs up the phone and begins picturing how lavish, yet classic and simple her yard will be. It’s been a few years since she last had the landscaping done, so it’s time for a change anyway

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

After a week of waiting, her new landscaping was underway. They’d installed the fountain first, as it was the most difficult portion of the design, and now they’re beginning the removal process of the old shrubbery and plants.

Once the yard work is finished, she thanks the workers and takes pictures to send to her best friend. In five years, she’s gone from a small business owner to one of the largest conglomerates in the Northern United States.

Gabriella is proud of herself, proud of the woman she’s become – independent and carefree. Yet, the loneliness she’s begun to feel over the last year is almost too much to bear.

“Maybe that’s why I tolerate the gorgeous, annoying fucker next door,” she grumbles to herself.

The last relationship she was in ended abruptly and she promised herself that the next man would be the type to appreciate a successful woman. However, she wasn’t so sure that Jungkook was that type of man either.

Why is he so competitive? She ponders. Whatever his reason, he’s still a douchebag.

She pushes her inquisitive thoughts to the back of her mind and returns inside to her home office to finalize a proposal. Oftentimes she feels as if her work never ends, that she’s drowning without water, nevertheless, in the end it’s all worth it. She always emerges above water and becomes stronger.

She’s exhausted from everything and goes straight to bed, allowing her pillow to absorb all of her worries.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

The next morning she stands at her kitchen island, sipping her coffee and checking her emails. There's a commotion outside and her first thought is that Jungkook is up to something.

She heads to the picture window and can’t believe what she’s seeing, “This motherfucker!” She rushes out the front door wearing only a satin robe and a short slip underneath.

Jungkook stands with his back facing her in his driveway, directing the landscaping company, “Move it that way about four feet and away from the house another two to three feet!”

“Jungkook!” Gabriella screams, startling him a bit.

He whips around, “Ella! You scared me! What brings you out here…dressed like that?” Once again he looks her up and down, admiring her curves as she realizes what she’s wearing and pulls the satin robe tightly around her body.

“It’s one thing to upgrade your landscape, but to go so far as to put that over-the-top marble statue fountain is a little much. I’m not saying you can’t have a fountain, but this is excessive?”

Jungkook laughs heartily, “I wasn’t aware that there was a limit to the type or size of fountain I could have installed in my yard. I didn’t see that in the neighborhood handbook?”

“My friends were right…” She snarls, “You must be overcompensating for your shortcomings.”

“Wouldn’t you like to find out,” Jungkook snaps back, his cocky tone infuriates Gabriella.

“I wouldn’t fuck you with a pocket pussy!” A downright lie was the only comeback she could gather in that moment.

“Yeah, okay. Well…” He pauses and smiles at her with confidence, because he knows as well as her that he’s won this argument, “if you don’t have anything else, I’m fairly busy right now, doing what I want on my property. Have a great day.”

“Rrgh,” she growls in defeat as she watches him walk away. Deep down, she wishes they could just get along – but is he really the problem?

Two months have passed, aside from the occasional eyerolls or flipping each other off, neither of them have spoken a word to one another. Gabriella could care less, winter is settling in swiftly, the sub-freezing temperatures have chilled her, literally.

Winter there can be brutal, the numbing cold is only a small portion of the savage climate – it’s the unpredictable blizzards that create the utmost danger.

Fortunately, Ella has lived in this private cul-de-sac for three years and she experienced a monstrous blizzard the first year she lived here. After being stuck in her house for nearly two days without electricity, she made the logical decision to have a state-of-the-art generator installed for emergency purposes.

As she waits for the generator technician to finish the yearly maintenance and test run on her generator, a thought crosses her mind – Jungkook's house doesn’t have a generator.

She laughs at her naivety, because he could probably care less about her well-being, so why should she give two fucks about his. Just then, the tech knocks at her patio door, letting her know he’s finished everything.

“You’re good to go. This generator will last you at least 30 more years, having the shed built to keep it safe from all weather conditions was a smart move. Honestly, more homeowners should do that.”

“I definitely did my research before purchasing this model, so I figured that would be the easiest way to keep it intact. Well, thank you so much! Have a great day and keep warm, it’s getting cold out here!”

Gabriella bundles up with blankets on the sofa, enjoying a mug of hot cocoa and browsing through the television channels. Across the bottom of all local channels is the same message – Blizzard Season.

Last year was the same, although it wasn’t as bad as the first and second year, she still gets nervous at the thought. After much consideration, she’d made the executive decision to have all employees work from home for the next three weeks. She isn’t willing to risk anyone having an accident or being stranded at the office, it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Over the next week, other than below zero wind chill, there hasn’t been a snowflake in sight. However, that soon changes as the forecaster predicts a snow storm with expectations of twelve or more inches, beginning tonight around 10:00 PM.

She prepares herself for the worst, immediately heading to the store and stocking up on hand warmers, bottled water, candles, flashlight batteries, thick socks and gloves and gas for her snowblower.

As she arrives back to her house, the flurries have begun and she knows this is the “calm” before the storm. As she waits for her garage door to open, she glances over at Jungkook’s house, wondering if he’s prepared for the storm. For a moment, she thinks about being the bigger person and letting him know if his situation goes south he can come to her house. She knows the previous owners didn’t bother having a generator installed, since it was just a summer home for them it wasn’t necessary. Just as quickly as the thought crosses her mind, she dismisses it and pulls into the garage.

“If he needs my help, he can come and ask for it since he’s such a big man.” Instantly, all of the agitated feelings she had before rush back. Once inside the house she takes a couple shots of warmed brandy to ease the tension and soothe her chilled bones.

A couple of hours pass and the severity of the storm intensifies. As she peers out the picture window, the snow is a thick blanket on the ground, drifting snow has gathered down the dark road leading out of the cul-de-sac in mounds nearly four to five feet high and visibility is limited through the falling flakes.

She glances over at Jungkook’s house and notices his lights are still on, not that she cares, but she does feel a bit of relief. Even though she loathes the man, she doesn’t want him freezing to death, because they can’t get along. Going against her own best judgment, she decides that, in the event he loses power, she’ll extend the olive branch and invite him to her house.

Just as she’s about to settle on the sofa and check the news the wind and snow pick up, the eye of the storm has arrived and it’s only going to get worse from here. Rather than worry herself, she turns on her relaxation playlist and slowly drifts to sleep.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

A few hours pass and she wakes up to a frightening scene outside of her window – the street lights are either off or the snow’s so thick she can’t see them. She checks her generator on the interior monitor and sees that the autostart has engaged. Quickly running to her window she strains to see Jungkook’s house, from her view it seems to be pitch black, until she notices a faint light passing by a window.

“Fuck,” she mumbles under her breath. On one hand, she can’t stand the fucker and doesn’t want to travel through the deep snow to offer her help. On the other hand, her humanity is telling her she has to at least attempt to help him. “If he says no, I’m not going to beg him.”

She quickly throws on a pair of thick socks, her snow pants and boots, winter coat and gloves, grabbing a flashlight and hand warmers before walking out of her front door and making the treacherous trek to his house. Her cheeks burn from the frosty wind and she immediately regrets leaving the house without her scarf.

After what felt like an eternity she’s at his front door, banging loudly, not out of worry, but because she wants to get shelter from the wind. She sees a candle through the window and then the door opens. Jungkook lets her in, wearing jogging pants and a sweater with a throw blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

“What the hell are you doing? It’s deadly out there!” Jungkook scolds her.

“What am I doing? What are you doing? It’s freezing in here, I take it you lost power?” She asks sincerely.

“Obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t be standing here with a candle and you definitely wouldn’t have come to check on me.” He laughs heartily.

“How can you joke at a time like this?” Her frustration builds up, “People die in these types of situations!” She’s shaking with anger.

“Calm down, I was just joking,” his tone comes off timid, very unlike his usual cocky persona.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t come to start an argument, I came to tell you that if you wanted to, you’re more than welcome to take shelter at my house until it’s safe to return to your house.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose, but I also don’t want to freeze to death.” His doe eyes pout at her, “But how do you still have power?”

“I’ll explain when we get to my house, now go and pack some dry clothes and pajamas, bring enough clothes for at least a couple days. Only because it could take them a day or two to get the electricity back up and running. There’s no need to run back and forth until then.” She nods for him to hurry. Jungkook scurries off into the darkness and comes back a bit later with a duffle bag following her out the front door and back to her house.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

JK changes into dry clothes and returns to the living room, still toweling his hair dry and drops onto the sofa on the opposite end from her. His long, wavy locks fluff up around his face, his biceps flexing with each scrub and she can’t help but stare.

“It’s crazy how different your house is from mine,” he says, his eyes gazing up at the vaulted ceiling, “My ceiling is high, but yours appears massive.”

“This isn’t an HOA, when the homeowners built their houses they were given free range to choose whatever style fit their taste. My house is nothing, the first house on the left is like a castle! There’s marble flooring throughout the entire place!” Her eyes sparkle as she talks about it, her small interior design business grew into one of the largest architecture firms solely based on her designs and visions.

“Your house is pretty awesome, I mean, mine is decent, but the interior in mine is a bit outdated?” His face reddens with embarrassment.

“Oh, believe me, I know,” she jokes. “I had to update a lot of this home when I purchased it! I felt like the 80’s smashed into the 90’s when I first viewed this home, but I could see it had potential.”

“I’ll definitely need to update mine once the weather warms up and I hear there’s a well-known interior designer in the neighborhood.” He grins at her softly and she begins to see a different side of him.

“Well, maybe she can find time in her tight schedule to go over some ideas and get a little inspiration from that homeowner.” She replies coyly.

“If you don’t mind, can I have a tour? Maybe I can get some design inspo from this beautifully designed home?” His tone is curious and flirty.

“Of course, where would you like to start?”

“I typically like to start from the bottom and work my way up.” Jungkook asserts provocatively.

Gabriella’s cheeks warm with bashfulness as she forces herself not to smile. Instead, she heads to the kitchen, opening a bottle of wine, “Care for a glass?”

A half-grin forms on his face and he nods his head in acceptance. She pours the wine and slides his glass across the island, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

She walks toward the basement entry and he follows in stride, unable to admire the architecture with her tiny waist and round ass in front of him. He’s only had tiny glimpses of her perfect frame considering most of their encounters end in arguments, but tonight he’s going for a different approach.

Jungkook can’t deny the fact that he was captivated by her the moment he first laid eyes on her, since then he’s realized his approach to get her attention wasn’t going to work. He could tell she saw him as a man, nevertheless, he deciphered his body wasn’t the key to get him any closer to her.

Everytime she was near him, he wanted to pull her body close to his, his large hand on the small of her back, their lips meeting, flesh to flesh, but the opportunity never arose. Even when she was angry and yelling at him, he found himself turned on, desiring her even more.

As she talked about the different areas in her basement, like her art studio, music studio and design room, all he could think about was laying her petite body on multiple surfaces.

“I know your house already has a media room in the basement, but there’s definitely room to expand it.” She turns to see Jungkook in a daze, obviously not hearing a word she’s said. “Your cheeks are a bit rosy, can’t handle the wine?” She teases.

“Huh?” His daze is broken, “Oh, no, I can handle my liquor, I was just thinking of different ideas for my…basement.”

“Well, I think expanding the home theater would be great, you’d definitely spend more time there…rather than outside.”

“About that,” his voice timid again, “Sorry about being so annoying. It’s just my first home and I wanted to enjoy the first year as much as possible, before life gets in the way.”

“I get it. When I first bought this house five years ago, I think I partied nearly everyday for the first few months! I mean, my parties weren’t as wild as yours and I made sure that after a certain time we moved into the house, but I understand. No explanation necessary.” She smiles and nods for him to follow her back upstairs, grabbing the wine from the kitchen they get comfortable on the floor in front of the fireplace.

A couple of bottles later, “While I attended Cornell University's Architecture program, I did interior design on the side. I had to pay for as much of the tuition after aid that I could, I didn’t want to finish college in debt. My network grew and by the time I finished college, I’d traveled to so many states doing interior design just from word of mouth. I was able to expand the small business I started from interior design to include architecture.”

“That’s pretty fucking awesome and an accomplishment worth bragging about. Cheers to Ella and her successful life she’s manifested!” They clink their glasses together and their eyes meet.

Never did the thought cross her mind that she’d be sitting on her living room floor, enjoying a conversation with Jungkook. The more she learns about him, the more intrigued she becomes by his mysteriousness.

“Enough about me, what about you? I know you own the largest moving company in the United States, how did you begin?” She finishes her wine and fills her glass, emptying the third bottle.

“I’ll grab another one,” he suggests, quickly heading to the kitchen and bringing back a bottle. After filling his glass again, he begins, “I came from a normal family, nothing glamorous or spectacular, just a blue collar working father and a part-time waitressing mother. As the youngest of four, I always felt forgotten about, which for most people leads to bad decisions. Instead, I focused on school and getting into college, I wanted to make my parents proud…I wanted them to notice me.” Tears well in her eyes as she listens to the raw, pure emotion in his voice.

“I maintained a 4.0 GPA throughout high school, senior year the offers were pouring in, but none of the colleges piqued my interest. I began applying to schools like Harvard, Yale, Columbia, major ivy league universities and a couple of them responded, but I realized the tuition was beyond my reach even with aid. I was about to give up, when I received an offer from Stanford University. A full-ride scholarship, but I had to write a full scale business plan in order for further consideration. While finishing high school, I switched one of my electives to an AP Business Class, where I quickly learned how to prepare a successful business plan.”

“What made you choose a moving company?” Gabriella questions, fully invested in his climb to success.

“I knew I wanted to run my own business and many ideas crossed my mind, but I also wanted it to be a business that benefited blue collar workers, like my dad. That’s when I decided on the moving company. We not only would provide pick-up and drop-off, we’d also provide storage for those that have sold their current home and were waiting to get into a new home or for it to be built. Before going to college, my parents had a going away party, since I didn’t get a graduation party. At the end of the night, after everyone left, they sat me in the living room and handed me a bank book. From the time I was born, until I left for college, they’d saved $100 a week, over $93,000, for me. I took a small portion of that money and bought a moving truck and started a small moving business, just to continue adding to the money. By the time I graduated college, my business had already expanded throughout the state of California, I had over twenty moving trucks and 80 employees. I guess you can say we both succeeded in the same fashion, from pure drive and motivation.”

“Fucking amazing!” She cups her mouth in embarrassment after she yelled out drunkenly.

Jungkook laughs, “Well, I think you’re pretty fucking amazing too.” Sincerity in his tone awakens something inside of her. She leans forward and kisses him on his soft lips, she quickly pulls away, but his arm wraps around and brings her face within centimeters of his. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited for this moment.” Desperation and desire explode as their mouths part and tongues meet, a warm explosion of want and need. Their hands touch and explore each other's warm bodies, yearning for more with each caress, but Gabriella breaks away from the kiss.

“Slow down, we’ve got time, neither of us is going anywhere anytime soon.” She points toward the window, where the since forgotten snow storm is still bearing down ruthlessly just beyond the glass. She stands up and reaches her hand out for him to grab, “Let me finish giving you the tour.”

He rushes to his feet and follows behind her, unable to keep his hands to himself, he gently backs her up against the wall halfway up the stairs. Lifting one of her legs, he lowers himself enough to grind against her warm core. His mouth is unable to stay in one place as his lips meet her neck, then her collarbone, until he gently nibbles at her erect nipple through her satin top.

The mix of pain and pleasure rushes from her nipple to her overstimulated cunt as his hard cock rubs against her clit through his pants. The sound of her moans hastens his needy instinct, his hips rotate in a frenzy until the crotch of his once light gray sweats are dark and wet with their juices.

She can’t hold back any longer, pulling the waist of his pants down and sliding the short satin shorts to the side, longing to feel him inside of her. Grabbing his thick cock with her tiny hand, she places it between her slick lips, “I need to feel you, become one with you, please,” she begs as her demand for pleasure intensifies.

His lips kiss her softly and he gently inches into her, feeling the stretch of her untouched walls the deeper he ascends. Gripping him tight, he focuses on pleasing her, fighting the urge to paint her walls with his sticky nectar.

He lifts her other leg and she wraps around him, hugging him tightly as he grips her ass and begins to stroke methodically in and out of her. She nibbles at his lobe, before burying her face into his neck, leaving marks of passion. He begins to feel her walls pulsate and a rush of warmth as she reaches her peak, slowing his stroke until she’s finished.

Lowering her shaking legs, his hooded eyes dark and burning with a fiery passion, she begins to lead him up the stairs, but he isn’t quite done. He leans up against her backside, lowering her onto the stairs and position her ass in the air. He easily slides back into her slick opening, spreading her cheeks as he pounds into her relentlessly, her body trembling as she quickly reaches another high. He pulls his cock out, stroking it slowly to keep his momentum going, but she lays there spent and needing a moment.

Jungkook effortlessly rolls her over and scoops her petite body into his arms and carries her to the top of the stairs, “Which way to your room?” She points down the long corridor to double glass doors and he wastes no time taking her there.

He enters the large master suite, her bed lies in the center of the room, a king-sized canopy with sheer drapes hanging on all four sides. He moves one of the soft curtains aside and places her on the edge of the bed, lowering to his knees and spreading her legs, his warm, soft tongue flicks gently at her sensitive nub.

The jolt of pleasure brings life back to her nearly limp body and she reaches her hands to grip her fingers in his wavy hair. He pushes her hood back and his mouth engulfs her clit, sucking and circling it with his tongue. She rolls her hips, fucking herself with his mouth, creating a buzz of electricity as she cums on his chin.

She scoots back on her bed and motions for him to join her. He frantically lifts his shirt over his head and steps out of his jogging pants, crawling to her, kissing her body as he makes his way up, settling his hips between her thighs.

Gabriella has other plans in mind as she wraps her legs around him and rolls them over, positioning herself on top. He reaches up and cups her plump breasts, kneading her nipples as she lowers herself onto his stiff member.

She slowly slides up and down his shaft, his toes curling as he tries to fight his high. Her sliding shifts to bouncing, her own desperation to cum again takes over her entire being. Jungkook can see the neediness in her eyes, gripping her hips and holding her steady, he begins to thrust upward into her.

He penetrates her and stops, hurriedly rolling her onto her back and pushing her legs to her shoulders, hovering his face within an inch of hers before continuing the savage pounding. Their harmonious moans and the squelching of their mixed juices pushes them both over the edge. They never break eye contact as their peaks meet one another, like a volcano erupting he fills her with his warm cum, sweat dripping from his face, soaking the comforter beneath her.

He finally lowers himself on top of her, spent, his stamina needing a recharge. She pulls the throw blanket from the end of the bed and tosses it over them as Jungkook slides to her side, she rolls over and scoots her ass against him, pulling his arm over her as they drift to sleep.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Gabriella wakes up with a slight headache, but the feeling of Jungkook’s warm, sleeping body next to hers is settling, relaxing enough to ease the pain just a bit. She attempts to get up and his arm tightens around her body, “Just a little longer, please.” His pouty voice almost wins her over.

“As much as I’d love to stay here like this, we need some coffee and I need to check the status of the electricity in the neighborhood.” He lets out a long sigh, before giving in, throwing the blanket from his naked body and stretching his limbs.

She gets up from the bed and admires all of the glory that is Jeon Jungkook, the man she once loathed, has now become the object of her affection…or desire. Whatever he may become, last night will be a memory she keeps nestled away for a long time.

She heats up the water and begins making the drip coffee, before checking her phone. Just as Jungkook makes his way into the kitchen, her phone rings.

“Hello?...Okay…Well that’s a good thing and very fast…I’ll go check on my neighbors since the street’s still inaccessible…Stay warm and have a good day…goodbye…”

She hangs up and pours their coffee, “The electricity is restored, so you’ll be able to go home, that is, whenever you’re ready.”

“I think I’ll stay for a bit, if that’s okay with you.” She smiles and they enjoy coffee and a small breakfast together. He leads her to the guest bathroom and they shower together, put on lounging clothes and lay together on the sofa until they fall asleep watching TV.”

Gabriella wakes up just as the sun’s setting, but Jungkook isn’t next to her. She gets up and looks out the window at his house and sees the lights are on, her heart begins to feel a little heavy, but she knows it was probably just a one time occurrence and won’t happen again.

She walks into the kitchen to get a glass of water and notices a piece of paper on the island under his coffee cup:

“Ella,

I’m not sure what to say, but I know I want to say ‘Thank You’.

I don’t know if I would’ve survived the night alone in my house, even after everything we’ve been through, you still offered me a safe haven, and I appreciate you for that.

Where we go from here, who knows, but let’s not make things awkward, we can go back to the way things used to be (minus the arguing) and start on a new foot, fresh, being normal neighbors.

I owe you for everything, and I mean everything.

Jungkook”

She’s not sure how to feel, she wants to scream and cry from shame. She wants to run over to his house and tell him how she feels, tell him that she doesn’t want to be normal neighbors, that she wants more.

However, she knows she’ll do neither, she’ll accept things as they are and continue living her life like she has been – accepting the loneliness.

It’s been over a week since that night and they haven’t argued, in fact, they haven’t spoken to each other either. Gabriella has returned back to her busy work schedule, so it’s been a little easier to ignore the nagging feeling in her gut.

Friday evening, as she returns from work, Jungkook is sitting on his front porch. She wonders if he’s waiting for her, so rather than pull in the garage, she parks in front of it. She hopes he’ll call out to her and she’ll run over there eagerly, but he doesn’t, he sits and stares at his phone, not even a glance in her direction.

Gabriella finally loses it, she can’t take the unknown, she needs to figure out what’s going on and why he hasn’t spoken to her in over a week. She silently storms over, determined to speak her mind and get things off of her chest.

“Why the silent treatment for over a week? I thought–” Gabriella is abruptly cut off.

“Jungkook, we cleared the air, agreed to let bygones be bygones…are you saying we didn’t?” Irritation radiates in her tone, but Gabriella remains as calm as reasonably possible.

“Was it that good?” Jungkook teases.

“Was it…Fuck you, Kook! Fuck you! Is everything a damn joke to you? I thought you were different, but I guess I was wrong!” Anger flows through her blood.

He sees the tears welling in her eyes, moving his gaze from her to the quiet street, “I’m sorry,” He replies as he stands and walks toward the door, “but that wasn't my intention.”

“Then what was your intention?” Her voice breaks, the emotions building within her on the brink of eruption.

With his back turned to her, hand on the storm door handle, he mumbles nearly incoherently, “I don’t know.” He walks into the house, closing the door in her face.

“MOTHERFUCKER!!!!” She screams inside, but her pride can’t let him know how weak he’s made her.

Gabriella is livid, she wants to smash his windows, take a sledgehammer to his fountain, but instead she trudges back to her house in pure defeat. He fooled her, he played the role he needed to that night to get in her pants, got what he wanted and now she’s just another notch on his belt.

She slams her door causing the entry table to rock and her treasured vase to fall and shatter to the floor. Her overwhelming emotions tip over the edge and the tears stream down her face. She feels used, stupid, unworthy and unwanted, all because of her annoying ass neighbor, Jungkook.

She’s about to grab the broom when there’s a knock at her door. She isn’t expecting any guests, but when she opens the door, she’s frozen with shock.

“Fuck! I don’t even know why I’m here!” Jungkook stands there winded and sweaty, wearing only a tank top, basketball shorts and slippers, “I just know that I’m sorry. I’m not sure how to do this relationship shit! You’re the first woman I’ve ever longed for, desired, the few others I’ve been with were nothing to me, just something to do, but you…you’re special.” The tears run down his rosy cheeks as he shivers from the cold.

Gabriella quickly opens the door, “Come inside. Why would you come here dressed like that?” She ushers him to the fireplace and wraps the throw blanket around his shoulders.

“I just don’t want to get left behind by you, you’re older, you’ve experienced more in life that I haven’t yet. I don’t want you to get bored with my curiosity, my interests, with all of the things you’ve already done that I have yet to tap into.” He sobs. “I don’t want to be the forgotten child again. Isn’t that how you view me? The immature, annoying guy from next door?”

Gabriella smiles, “From the day I met you, I viewed you as a man. Yes, you did shit that drove me insane, but at the same time, deep down, it made me want to get to know you even more. Now that I’ve gotten a glimpse into you, the real you, I want more. I would never get bored with you, you keep me on my toes, keep me striving for more out of life, more out of you.”

Jungkook sniffles and wipes his face with his shirt, “Then where do we go from here?” He looks up at her with his large, brown doe eyes.

“I don’t know where we go from here, but wherever we go, let’s go together.”

17 notes · View notes

safely-in-vhagars-belly · 7 months

Text

Dark!Aemond x oc (Snow falls, chapter 26: running around in circles

Concept: You are Willa Wyldewoods, lady of Wyldecrest. After being denied your hand in marriage, Aemond murders your family and makes himself Lord of WyldeCrest, out-powering you. He claims you as his wife and spoils, He commands and goes over your home now and as you will learn right now: No one is safe under his reign. Not even you.

WARNINGS: Non-con, smut 18+ dark!aemond and slight bookaemond, abuse, choking, obessed insane aemond, cursing,

He growls when grabbing you from the bed. "You think I'd kill for every brat I want in my bed?" He chokes you. You gasp helplessly. "You think I let anyone sleep in my bed, near me, where you can kill me, easily? You think I like it that the thought of another's hands on you makes me want to burn down villages and massacre civilisations?!" He shouts the words at you as you are scared but also confused. "I didn't fuck anyone since I married you! From the whore at your home, to the whores here in King's Landing! No one can even compare to you! Hearing you talk yourself down is making me mad!"

You are touched, scared and afraid and aroused at the same time as you hear those words leave the lips of your husband. So he didn't take anyone in his bed. Or so he claims. Perhaps he is lying.

Aemond seems to only now notice that he is choking you and lets go of your neck. "Now, my little fox…’’ He makes sure there is a pause when he takes in your shaking body and your widened pupils. Of fear, perhaps. But also of desire.

It was fucking Aegon, pleasuring Aegon and pleasing Aegon. All that she taught you was that Aemond likes his bedmates wild and untamed, and you are nothing of the sorts.

He moves on with his questions.

"Your friend. What did she learn you?' You know it best to answer honestly. And Aurelia didn't teach you anything sexual. Perhaps she showed you some things, but none of it was teaching you.

Aemond smacks your behind when you cry out as his cruel smacks. "You have a habit of rambling whenever you are nervous. Clear answers, pet." He groans when tugging at your fox coat.

You gulp and you have to clear your throat before speaking. Your throat feels dry.

''Not much. She did a few things with the king -"Your rambling is interrupted by two hard blows on your behind.

Aemonds hands gently caress your face. "Did you like it, Willa?' He asks. "Do you like it when you have no say? Do you like it when you are helpless?" He wonders out loud. Do you? You find it confusing.

You close your eyes and nod.

"He.. he had sex with her when I was present. She forced me to kiss her." And you touched yourself when you watched them. But you don't tell Aemond that. He said he already "dealt" with Aegon. You don't want your husband to risk his life by upsetting the king by making another example out of him.

You know you must answer. To your husband, yes. But also to yourself. Who are you, really? You must be honest. "I do, and I don't. I do like it when we are alone and you take control. But if your brother marched in here and held me down... I wouldn't like it one bit.' You confess. You picture the drunk smelly king on top of you compared to Aemond, and you know who you'd prefer in a heartbeat.

Aemond sighs when rubbing your back. "I should take his head for corrupting my innocent sweet fox." He murmurs softly in your neck. "You are so scared of my brother now. He has been warned not to play any games with you again. You are mine, little fox." He whispers. "Mine alone." Aemond declares, when kissing your cheeks of tears.

You chuckle a little nervously. That sounded an awful lot like treason. The worst of treason. Kingslaying, betrayal, murder and even kinslaying. "H-husband, you mustn't say such things. That could be treason-" If anyone heard him...

He is more interested in your lessons. "Did she told you to clench yourself when we fuck? Did she teach you how to milk me dry?" He asks.

Yet he hushes you.

"O, Hush. As if you give a fuck about my brother." He grins at you cheekily. "You must worry about your own fate, little fox. The things I'll do with you to make you repay your debt to me. To things I'd do with your holes and your body." He sighs as if he's picturing himself already cock deep inside of you.

You shake your head.

"No, I...I discovered it on my own." Aurelia only told you you were a slave and that you did not know Aemond. Not truly.

He grins approving.

"Naughty girl..." He touches your chin. You and him both forgot that he is partly covered in blood.

Aemond dryly stares at his fingers.

" I forgot I'm still covered in blood." He does not move however. He smiles at you. His wife. He waits for you to come up with a idea. He already knows you are clever, and he knows you want him to get rid of all the blood.

Aemond nods relaxingly when you finally touch his face. "I like my bath boiling hot, my little fox." He tells you with a wink. "Go prepare my bath for me."

You carefully make a suggestion.

"A bath might do you good. You have had a...intense night." You say softly. "I am sure we can find an unoccupied bathroom..." Aemond’s bathroom, for one.

You prepare the bath for your husband. Aemond first tests the water by entering one finger. You think of what else those fingers have entered and are turned wet. You quickly turn your head, avoiding your sinful thoughts as Aemond undresses himself, getting ready to sit in the bath. He sighs of relief and enjoyment when he finally lays in the big tub.

Aemond washes himself when you watch. He takes his time scrubbing the blood of his body and seems to be not aware of how nervous you are. You have been with your husband quite a few times by now but you never saw him or anyone bathe.

His bright eye goes open when he slightly lowers it into a glare. "Willa. Why are you so insecure?" His question comes out of nowhere. It hits you as a slap on your face. You freeze and stop breathing for a moment. So it is that obvious to him. Does he like it or does it annoy him?

You scold yourself for thinking of Aemond's preference first. These are your feelings not his. You need to be brave and strong now. Why do you care more for his preferences than the fact that these feelings hurt, kill and torment you beyond compare? They are the reason you nearly slept with a very unkind whore.

Aemond sinks back in the tub after your confession rubbing his forehead in thought as if he completely forgot that he once told you that.

You laugh but it's insincere.

"I mean, it's hard not to be. You vowed to me at the wedding after you first took me into your bed, a moment where you could have been kind, that many girls came to you and will come to you. That you would fuck other women. I could not satisfy my own husband enough that he would rather stay with me, his fresh wife. Instead he went to whores." You sound bitter. You are bitter. You hate how it still stings all those months later.

He does not answer. But then he does, and he blurts it out rather casually. "I apologize for making you feel that way." He apologizes now? Your brows raise in surprise. You must check the sky for pigs later.

You don't take his apology at first. You want to hurt him. To make him understand what he did with you. What his treason did with you. "I am not sure I can handle sharing you with so many. It is why I think I will never measure up and even wanted to fuck a whore for you." You want to hear he is sorry, but more importantly that he will never look at another woman again.

Aemond sighs deeply.

"That girl that I slept with..." that whore? What does he want to say? That whore at Wyldecrest? He never told you who it was.

He leans back, avoiding your eyes.

You glare boiling with rage.

"Yes?"

"I seem to have misremembered it." Misremember it? What does that mean? What does any of this mean? You are confused.

He has the audacity to smirk at you. As a naughty puppy who stole a biscuit. "It was an innocent little lie on my behalf." A lie. You will strangle him.

Yet your voice is sharp.

"Aemond?"

As an answer your husband growls and avoids you. So it is true. He was lying to you again. "Hm? You think I'm stupid? You are one of the richest families in Westeros. You might not be the richest, but your wealth outmatches every household in the North. You could barge into every house and throw a golden dragon at someone's feet before stealing their daughter away." He did so before. He did not even pay your family. He only killed them, at Aegon’s request.

Or perhaps this is a lie.

"I don't believe you. You did sleep with her and try to deny it now. Who would not come to you? How can anyone resist you?"

Aemond laughs, mockingly when you tear up. You married a monster. A beast. But his laugh is hollow. It is not real. And his smile falls when he speaks looking anywhere but your face. "Given the fact I am a mutilated half blind beast, most women find me unattractive and a monster. None were eager to crawl on top of me. This is why my brother got me a slave to blow off some steam." It is your eyes that avoid him now. He grabs your chin firmly so you are forced to look into his remaining good eye. His eye goes over your body, taking you in before growling in the shell of your ear."And to buy a whore? I don't buy my pleasures, Willa. I take them from their safe homes and I make them mine as you well know. It’s what I did with you.’’

Aemond growls thinking that you pity him. "I am a beast. A horrendous beast that no one would dare to curse themselves with." You lightly smack one of his hands and he hisses. You glare warning him of pushing you away again.

You are insulted by his reminder, you are insulted by him insulting your taste in men by insulting himself. Your face softens.

"You are beautiful..." You mutter to him and reach out to touch him.

You take hold of his face, caressing it gently. "You are not a monster." You tell him when leaning in, careful to not slip into the bath. He is surprised but doesn't stop you. You lean in closer, empowered by his silence and his curiosity. You feel brave and for the very first time... you feel beautiful. Wanted. Desired. And more...

You feel...

"You wicked little fox." He mutters to himself. "I am afraid that hitting your husband is a form of treason." He grins speaking to you. You smile.

Powerful.

In control for once.

You lean in and kiss Aemond on his lips before leaving dozens of little kisses over his face and even his scarred side. "There." You declare before moving away from him. He breathes out.

You recite a lesson that your septa told you long ago.``To fully forget and forgive one must face atonement for her sins." You don't think your maid would approve of your wicked plans with Aemond and yourself, but she is not here for it anymore.

You take off your fox fur coat and undo yourself of your nightgown when Aemond watches every movement you make from the bath. His voice is already affected by his lust being heavy and dark. "I agree, I didn't know the Old Gods believed in that as well." He is a Hightower. Half at least. Religion is in his blood.

Because Aemond killed her.

You ignore that thought, pausing it for now.

You tell him how you think it is. The old Gods, the new gods, the drowned god...it is all the same face. Perhaps they are all real, and you believe that. You believe they are all real and can co-exist. Just as many different people. "Gods are gods, husband. I like to think that just as all people, they have small things in common."

He nods, interested in your views. He does not mock you or laugh at you for not believing in his gods alone. "That is an interesting prospect. I can't say I thought of it before. You believe in all the gods, then?"

Do you? This conversation started so easily and now..."I, it's difficult husband. I believe there is something that keeps us safe. Something that drives us. My parents raised me with both the old Gods and the new. But perhaps there are more gods beyond those I've been raised with. Who am I to turn my back on gods because I wasn't raised with them?'

"You just crave approval." He murmurs to himself. "You are perfect." He finally has enough and moves on.

He is eying you with hunger and desire. "What will your attoment be, little fox? How will you pay for your sins?" He asks from the bath.

You laugh. "Sins? Are you a septon now?" You once had to call him master, he loves when you call him husband and loses control when you call him king so you are not that surprised.

Aemond thinks, smirking.

"No, not a Septon". ‘’Just your God. You worship me after all. When you nibble at my cock, when you beg me and cry for me. When you are on your knees for me..." You give a soft nod.

He warns you one final time.

"This won't be very pleasant for you, little fox. I will not hold back." He will hurt you. Good. You need to be hurt. You need to forget that you want to run away from him. You need to feel his desire and that he at least wants you. Now more than ever.

You lower your gaze.

"You may treat me as you wish."

He grins aroused by your consent.

"O, that never was not the case, little fox. You are my little pet and my little wife." You don't think you ever get used to Aemond's sharp tongue.

He gets out of the bath.

You look up to your husband.

"What will your attoment be?" You ask, causing him to nearly slip on the stone tiles.

He is shocked.

"I beg your pardon?" His voice is full of worry and offense. He finds it ridiculous that he must face punishment for his sins as you have for your own.

You are grabbed by your throat and choked. Aemond glares at you through his lashes and stops only when you are hushed and quiet. "Now, little fox. It works differently for me. You are a little WyldeWoods fox. I am a Dragon of the house Targaryen. The word "Blood" is in my house words." He tells you as if you are a foolish little girl.

You grin, explaining yourself.

It only makes sense. "if I am to be punished, you should be as well." It is only fair. "I have been unfaithful to you, and for that I will endure my punishment but you have killed. That is even worse-"

You stutter

"B-but-"

Aemond continues to glare at you. You nervously laugh. "Heh. You see, killing is why you need atonement not-"

He sharply pinches your left nipple. "No." He simply says.

"If you think you can punish me, you can try little fox, but I promise you, I will punish you back. You are already being naughty, defying your husband as this, making him wait for his much-earned reward for killing your enemies for you." He murmurs in your ear when you shiver by the thought of all the dead people just downstairs.

"Is that all you want me to suffer for?" He asks dryly.

You shake your head.

"For lying to me about the whore. For killing Aurelia-"

You feel guilty. Could you have talked her out of this? Had you not touched her, had Aemond not killed her? You will never know.

He groans annoyed.

"No one cared about Aurelia.' That is the truth. No one cared about Aurelia. Aegon only cared about her body. You only cared about what she could tell you about Aemond. And Aemond only cared what she had told you.

He reads you very well.

"She was not your friend, Little fox. She was another master for you to cling to. She played you." He says. You must believe him for your own sanity. Because you are not sure you can handle the thought of him killing a possible friend. Not again.

"You mustn't be frightened, little fox. You know by now that being under your husband's control is a good thing. You know I care for you and your...perversions." He mutters when sucking on your neck. You moan the way he likes. Soft and obedient.

You are pressed against the wall.

"H-husband?" You are pressed with your face into the wall when Aemond takes stand behind you, rubbing your ass when water drips everywhere.

He chuckles when you are frightened and worried. "One of these days you'll run out of excuses, or perhaps you cross a line where there is no coming back from. I'll throw you on your knees and finally, finally will fuck this tight little hole and claim you fully as my wife and my pet." He roars in your ear when rubbing you.

You give an absent, scared nod. You are terrified for that day. A blow is dealt to your bum, and you gasp when Aemond forces your hands to your entrance. He grabs your hands and lets them touch you. "Touch yourself gently with one finger. No rubbing or fucking. Just Touch softly." You obey, following his orders closely.

You turn wet against Aemond's front. "Good girl, let me see..." You are turned around and Aemond takes in your wet red and dripping cunt. He smirks when running his own fingers briefly over your folds. You shiver.

Aemond thinks for a while. "Get on all fours." You obey hesitant at first but allow yourself to crawl from your husband. Aemond nods approvingly when petting your head softly. "I am so sorry for what comes now, little fox. You will not enjoy it. I know you won't. But I need you." You try to escape but Aemond easily drags you back, sinking to his own knees as well. He forces your cunt against his front and with a deep rough trust enters you when you cry out in pain. "Nrgh!" Your cries echo through the room as Aemond sighs of pure delight.

You fall on your side, as Aemond chuckles in your ear. He is inside you, his cock pressed inside of you tightly. He makes himself at home, forcing the cock as deep and far as he can go. Until you are filled up entirely. You moan weakly and buck to get him off you but instead of stopping he smacks your behind and stars pounding.

Your face is pressed down and you feel the cock pound away at your pussy. You feel warm and wet and judging by his groans he enjoys himself. You cry weakly as Aemond takes you, unaware of your misery.

"I am nearly there." He promises you instead. "You are so tight for me, my fox. You were made for me. You fit me so well." You can only grunt softly and accept. Aemond becomes aggressive the moment you have surrendered, aroused by it. He groans before fucking you tightly and taking you when you cry and whimper. He is there. Almost there. You need to be brave and to keep strong. Any moment he can be satisfied.

You hesitantly buck back.

You clench your muscles as you did before. You feel him pound at your walls hitting different pleasure spots. Your vision blurs and you clench tighter. Aemond growls as an animal before fucking you on the painful stone floor. "Sstop..." You beg him helplessly.

He comes in his hands, rubbing it out over your face. You have cum and tears on your cheeks now. Aemond forces your head to his crotch and opens wide. You watch as his cock is entering your mouth. 'Clean your husband.' You suck him clean for him and you also lick his balls affectionately. Aemond fucks your mouth as well; but much lazier than he fucked your cunt. Your cunt is on fire and stings, burns and drips with cum and your own wetness. Aemond finished...

But you didn't.

"Good girl. You were so good today." He whispers. "I'm very pleased." You appreciate his kind words and lean into his touch.

"Shall I take a look?" He knows more about it than you do unfortunately. And that won't change for a while.

You make your voice a soft whisper when you rub yourself against his body forcing his fingers to touch your cunt.

"My cunny hurts." You whisper in his ear. Aemond grins but nods.

You nod once again.

"Yes please..."

You are a bit annoyed that he seems to repeat himself as well, when he might as well could fuck you. "I am already being punished. I am sorry.' You say.

He chuckles.

"You should not have gone to the whore, Willa. I don't like sharing you." you feel bad enough as it is about the dead people downstairs. He should not bring up your treasonous actions.

He chuckles darkly and you have your hair stand up on your arms.

"You will be, little fox. You will think twice about fucking any other person but me. No one else's cock will ever inject you and no other cock will bring you as high as I can. Is that understood?" You nod.

But he wants a verbal answer. So you give him what he wants.

"Yes, my Prince." You say.

Aemond notices your red glinstering wet cunt. "Yes. I see what the issue is." You are relieved. You hope it is not something serious or worse an illness.

Aemond growls.

"Master, you slut. Now spread wide, some me how pathetic and wet you are for me after my stern talking with you." You clumsily spread your legs for Aemond so he can inspect you.

Aemond nods before smacking your cunt. You cry out for mercy. He grins. "A classical case of a cunt due for a good fucking, as well as a greedy owner who wants to be owned as a slave." He tells you in your ear when rubbing your cunt with two fingers. You let him and gasp.

You feel your worry only grow.

"You do?"

You become aroused as the abuse continues. Aemond notices this and keeps from smacking you. "Your cunny thinks for you. I must teach you to use your little brain instead. Although, I doubt there is much over. I might have fucked it out of your head." He chuckles darkly. You nod, never agreeing to those words when you were not aroused but you agree to him so easily when you are aroused.

And he smacks down on it as well.

"Pathetic." Smack. "Ridiculous." Smack. You whimper aroused and yet terrified. "Pitiful." Smack.

Aemond sighs, letting his fingers go over you when you roll your hips and steady yourself. "Yes, this is the source of all our problems. Your sweet, little tight and wet cunny." He murmurs. "You like it when I touch it, don't you? Do you like this?' He briefly rubs you. You nod. "And this?' He fingers your folds, running his fingers over it. You nod again. "And finally..do you like this, you whore?" His fingers dig in three at once. You cry out in approval and wrap your legs around his arm desperately. You buck and moan.

After a while, Aemond stops you with a wicked grin on his lips, taking control of your pleasure once more. "Not so fast or the pleasure will fade. You will hold onto your pleasure until I fuck your cunny." You don't meet his eye. Aemond drags you by the hair and smacks you two times on your exposed cunt when you scream in pain or is it pure pleasure?

He grins.

"Fuck my fingers as if it is my cock. Make me proud, slut. Show me what you learned and how desperate you are for me." You nod, obeying your husband when he buries himself deep inside your extra wet and stretched out pussy. Your muscles and walls tighten around him and you let out the one after the other soft beg and plead.

"Is that understood?" He barks.

You are too aroused and nod when moaning. You hope he is satisfied.

"Y-yes..." You take the fingers deeper and more rougher. You need to chase it. You want to chase it.

Aemond rolls his eye.

He wants verbal answers and you keep forgetting. "Is that understood?" He barks before hitting you once more. You nod eagerly, not sure you can keep your promise if he hits another time.

Aemond notices your change very well and removes his fingers with a cruel smirk when you gasp as they are pulled from deep inside of you. Helplessly wet you gawk at him. "Good girl." He gives you a pat on the head before shoving a finger in your mouth. You imagine it's his thick shaft and lick it clean for him of your own wetness. You taste delicious.

"You are such a cumslut." He whispers in your ear. "Come here, my little fox." You obey. You scootch over to him, following him blindly.

You need to find pleasure. "Husband, I am nearly there."

So you do which much effort you do. "Yes." Followed by a very soft and timid. "Please master."

The kinslayer laughs cruelly.

"I know, you slut. Your cunt felt even more tight than usual. Do you wish for me to fuck you senseless and to make you spend as a dirty whore?" He waits for your answer. He wants to hear you say it.

"Now, follow back into the bedchamber." He commands you with a wink. You follow him.

He is pleased. Of course he is.

"Little fox, fetch me my robe." You obey and faithfully hand him his robe when he covers himself.

Aemond takes you back to your shared bedchamber. Instead of asking if you want to lay down, he grabs your ass and smacks down his hands on it, groaning when giving you an order. "On the bed with you." Excitement makes master of you as you are ordered on the bed.

You sit obediently and await for your husband to come out and play.

#dark aemond fic #hotd #SnowFallsAtWyldeCrest #non-con #smut #mentions of cheating #agression issues #jealousy #graphic descriptions #gore #mentions of murder #dark old work #AFAB Reader #Dark #head the warnings #writing #old work

14 notes · View notes

lover-of-mine · 9 months

Text

How explicit can you get and still call it implied sexual content? Asking for a friend.

#.-.#im about to border on non graphic smut i think lol #help #this escalated .-.#wayf fic #thoughts thoughts thoughts

9 notes · View notes

mtreebeardiles · 2 years

Note

!!! “ you just can’t get enough of me, can you? “

For either of the Shepard boys and their partner?

This got a bit spicy, so the whole thing is over on AO3 hahah Thanks for the prompt!

A quiet oof! followed by a breathy laugh and Everett smiled up at him as Kaidan straddled his hips. Kaidan grinned back, admiring him a moment, one hand moving to cup his cheek. Tired around the eyes but that playful glint was back, that knowing curve to his lips, the slight flush rising over pale skin. He dipped down, catching those lips with his own in another fervent kiss, and Evvy yielded eagerly to him, another laugh caught between them. The first kiss had happened in the lift, a calculated risk on Kaidan's part given the hour and the fact that they were blessedly alone for more than five minutes, and for all Everett had been surprised he'd given back as good as he'd gotten. The second kiss had been his, against the door the moment they made it past the threshold into the safety of his quarters and now, the third, capitalizing on the heat simmering between them.

They'd been back on the Normandy for nearly a month, sent this way and that at the behest of the Alliance, smaller ops that were feeling less like a relaxing 'reward' in the aftermath of Sovereign's attack and more like an observation period. Heightened scrutiny something Evvy had warned him about, a pattern the Commander was intimately familiar with after all these years but definitely not something Kaidan was used to. Uncomfortable, really, for an L2 biotic in the wake of the Burns incident, but the Normandy kept him from the worst of it. News reports, think pieces, sensationalist rumormongering and the like were easier to ignore when they were confined to a screen, and he didn't have the same level of public recognition that Evvy did. A little spillover here and there, some incidents of people trying to engage him or Tali or Liara whenever they made a stop at a more populated port or station, but Everett had been doing his best to shield them from the worst of it.

You always take such good care of me. Kaidan wondered if Evvy realized how much he took care of them, too.

#my writing #Everett Shepard #Kaidan Alenko #Everett x Kaidan #mshenko #mass effect #non graphic smut #prompt fill

16 notes · View notes

late-to-the-fandom · 1 year

Text

Rumours report Prince Renathal and his former Maw Walker can currently be found in the Dragon Isles. How did they get there and what are they up to? Work in Progress! These are all my Post-Shadowlands stories of Renathal and the (former) Maw Walker starting with the introduction of her name (in A Maw Walker by Any Other Name), the original plotline story explaining how they left the Shadowlands for Azeroth (A Wend in the Shadows) and their various adventures in the Dragon Isles (And there was only one dragon!) Runs a spectrum of ratings from G to E. Read the series on Ao3 here.

A Maw Walker By Any Other Name (Prologue)

What is the Dark Prince to call his lover now her career in Maw walking has come to an end? In which I finally get around to revealing the Maw Walker's name, so I don't have to call her that throughout the sequel. Takes place before A Wend in the Shadows proper. Rated T for implied sexual scenarios | 1,288 words

A Wend in the Shadows

Something’s afoot in Revendreth, and the Dark Prince Renathal is determined to discover what. Is it the rumoured rebellion, the Master of the realm himself, or his mysterious mortal guest? Click here to read the series on Ao3.

Chapter One: The Master Awaits "In spite of everything Renathal's primary senses were telling him, an ominous warning still lurked underneath. There was something indefinably wrong about how he had woken up today."

Chapter Two: The Lay of the Land "Centuries - epochs, even - of endless, unvaried routine, and suddenly the Dark Prince of Revendreth found himself up to his ragged ears in mysteries."

Chapter Three: The Endmire "But it was not what loomed above them that made Renathal’s cold skin crawl. It was what lurked below them. The unnatural chill that crept through his veins even before his booted feet touched the ground."

Chapter Four: Anima Awakening "An ache had awoken within Renathal that had nothing to do with the Endmire, an urge he had fought to keep quelled for many centuries with creditable success; and which, with three scattered encounters and hardly an effort on her part, Elisewin, the Master’s singularly sinful mortal, had brought roaring back to life."

Chapter Five: The Proper Punishment "It felt more, the Dark Prince reflected as he led the mortal into Darkwall Tower, like hosting a foreign dignitary than punishing a penitent soul."

Chapter Six: Home Improvement "Renathal was flirting with disaster. Quite literally. And as long as flirting was where he kept it, he and Elisewin would both be safe."

Chapter Seven: Formal Refreshments "Discipline bid him go no further. Renathal swept it ruthlessly aside. There was no reason not to take what he wanted now. Elisewin would soon be gone. The least they both deserved was to enjoy themselves before the end."

Chapter Eight: Safe in the Shadows "Renathal would have stormed up to the castle then and there and demanded answers of Denathrius, refused to leave until he had them, were it not for the… extenuating circumstances…"

Chapter Nine: Into the Light "Elisewin was singular, but she did not - could not - understand. That Renathal had waited steadfastly for eternity and finally had everything he wanted."

Chapter 10: Mix, Mingle, and Meddle "Renathal was determined not to let anyone or anything - even the Sire - ruin the happiness he had only begun to savour."

Chapter 11: An Invitation to Treachery "In a different, not-so-distant time in his history, Renathal might have enjoyed, perhaps even instigated, such a rebellion; the challenge of outright revolt against the creator of the realm did hold a certain contumacious appeal."

Chapter 12: Rebels on the Road “ 'Relies on a lot of risky assumptions, this plan.' 'Why, my dear,” said Renathal with lavish humour. “Since when is the Dark Prince of Revendreth’s consort afraid of a little risk?' "

Small Bites - Drabbles from Wend in the Shadows

Time - DWC July 29 Drabble - Shameless flirting between Renathal and Elisewin. Takes place between chapters 5 and 6. Chandelier, Crimson, Chaos - Writing Prompt. Takes place between chapters 5 and 6. Acquired Taste - EXPLICIT SMUT. Takes place in the middle of chapter 8. Nightmare - Arguments, angst, and POV shift practice. Another Interruption - EXPLICIT SMUT. Takes place between chapters 9 and 10. Aftermath - Writing warmup taking place after chapter 7.

And there was only one dragon! - Renathal & the (former) Maw Walker's Tales from the Dragon Isles

Orgrimmar - In which the Prince of Revendreth arrives in Azeroth. Ruby Lifeshrine - In which Elisewin makes a case for completing quests in geographic rather than campaign order. The Obsidian Throne - In which Renathal and Elisewin determine their loyalties. The Ohn'Ahran Plains - In which a certain centaur couple has a wedding, illuminating new possibilities for Renathal and his former Maw Walker. The Waking Shores - In which Elisewin has the more difficult time acclimating to certain customs in the Dragon Isles. Algeth'ar Academy - In which Renathal and Elisewin interact with a certain familiar sounding NPC. The Temporal Conflux - In which Renathal and Elisewin discover a mutual temptation. Iskaara - In which Renathal indulges. Vakthros - In which Elisewin is too slow, and Renathal finally has a good reason to destroy Raszageth. Valdraaken - In which Renathal and Elisewin enjoy a well-deserved break. Orgimmar, Again - In which our heroes return to Azeroth and await their next adventure.

18 notes · View notes

lifblogs · 14 days

Text

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Royce Hemlock/Tech | CX-2, Non-Consensual Pairing Word Count: 2551 Summary: What happens after the first scene of chapter 5 of Brother, Hold Me Up. Hemlock hungers for his creation, CX-2, and CX-2 must earn his pain meds. WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Gore

4 notes · View notes

joelsgreys · 5 months

Text

someone to be thankful for

DBF! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: It’s Thanksgiving—when dinner with your nightmare of a family goes south, you find comfort in the person you least expect it from: your father’s best friend, Joel Miller.

warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (AU, NO OUTBREAK) non canon, DBF! Joel, AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s, i do not specify her age, but she’s a recent college grad so do with that what you will, not everyone graduates at the same specific age ya know? Joel is in his mid-ish 50’s). Reader’s a teacher, she is visiting her suburban childhood home from a big city. Reader’s parents are religious and practice traditional-ish gender norms (i.e father is head of the household kinda thing) reader’s family celebrates Thanksgiving (sorry) several mentions of food and alcohol, reader’s parents suck, she has two brothers who come with names, a lot of her relatives come with names, watch out for Aunt Ines she’s a bitch. (TW) body/weight shaming (twice) PLEASE BE MINDFUL if this could be triggering. mentions of and implications of childhood abuse (not graphic) reader’s dad gets in her face, implied infidelity (reader’s dad), implied toxic marriage (reader’s parents). soft, caring, protective Joel. Joel’s recently divorced, mention of Sarah, mentions of the ex-wife. SMUT. oral sex (female receiving) p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) reader states she’s on baby blockers (birth control), creampie, DADDY KINK (bc reader clearly has a few daddy issues), LOTS of pet names (darlin’, baby, pretty girl, sweetheart, honey), size kink (ish?), cockwarming. think i got it all?

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. if this isn’t your thing, that is fine but just keep on scrolling.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.

word count: 11.5k

a/n: yeah…idk. this was very delayed because it turned into a whole thing. if anyone actually reads all 11k of this, i will bake you muffins.

You take a deep breath and look in the mirror.

Skirt pressed, not a wrinkle in sight.

Hair brushed, not a single strand out of place.

Makeup done, not a blemish to be seen.

And somehow, someone will still find something.

Something to point out.

Something to comment on.

Something to criticize.

If not your appearance, it’ll be something else.

Because someone always had something to say.

“Should you be eating all of that?”

“Another year gone and still no boyfriend?”

“Don’t you want to get married?”

“When I was in my twenties, I had two children.”

Boundaries didn’t exist on Thanksgiving.

Actually, for your family, boundaries didn’t exist at all—somehow, they are still scratching their heads and wondering why you’d decided to up and leave the minute your high school principal handed over that diploma, your ticket to freedom.

“Sweetie!” Your mother’s shrill voice calls from the kitchen downstairs. “I need a hand! Our guests are going to start arriving soon and there is still plenty left for us to do before they get here!”

You groan outwardly.

There’s still plenty left to do?

How’s that even fucking possible?

You’ve been cooking and baking since sunrise.

“Don’t you think it’s too early?” you’d grumbled at five o’ clock in the morning when your mother had pulled you out of bed, declaring it was time for the big dinner preparations to begin—even though it’d be several hours before your family came over and gathered around the table to break bread. She had pulled the turkey out of the freezer a few days ago, a massive, thirty-pound whole bird that looked big enough to feed a small village. In addition, she had picked up a ham and a brisket. “Mom, why’s there so much food?” Rubbing the sleep from your eyes with the sleeve of your robe, you’d started making your way over to the Nespresso only to realize that the coffee machine was hidden behind paper bags full of groceries. “Are we cooking for all of Texas or something?”

“Very funny,” she had glared at you. “Of course we aren’t.” She started unwrapping the turkey. “We’re simply making sure we have enough food and that we have different options for everyone to enjoy, so knock it off with the wisecracks and get to peeling those carrots for me for the stuffing. There is not a single minute to waste today, you hear me, missy? We’re hosting a dozen people, so everything must be absolutely perfect. I won’t accept anything less than perfection today, do you understand me?”

Thirteen hours later, she’s still driving you insane.

You’re only home visiting until the end of the week and then it’s back to the Midwest. You can survive her for three more days, right?

You hear her calling your name and exhale a small, frustrated sigh. “I’m coming, mom!” you call back. It’s difficult to mask the annoyance in your tone of voice, but somehow you manage it. “One minute!”

Smoothing down your pleated plaid skirt, you take one last look in the mirror to make sure everything is in order—there is a loose thread on the sleeve of your brown, knitted sweater and you carefully snip it off with a pair of scissors before sliding your feet into the comfiest pair of ankle boots you’d packed and head downstairs, nose leading the way as you follow the warm, delicious scent of the made from scratch biscuits and rolls baking in the oven.

You find your mother standing at the center island counter garnishing a charcuterie board with sweet gherkins and sprigs of fresh herbs. She is donning festive apron embroidered with fall leaves over her designer dress; her hair’s still up in rollers. “Finally, there you are,” she huffs out loudly the second she hears you walk into the kitchen. Down the hallway, your father and two younger brothers are shouting at some football game on the flat screen television in the living room—men don’t lift a single finger on this day, at least not in this household. “I need you to start setting the table for me. I have place cards in that bag over there. Make sure your dad’s at the head of the table. Oh and don’t forget to bring out the children’s table for all your little cousins—” She glances up, letting out a small gasp when she sees you. “What in the world are you wearing?”

Frowning, you look down at yourself. “Clothes?”

Her ruby red lips purse together in a tight thin line.

“Honey, that skirt is too short. It’s inappropriate.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at her. “It’s like an inch above the knee, how is that inappropriate? It’s not like it’s a miniskirt, mom.” As she eyes your skirt with disapproval, you decide you’re not in the mood to argue and say, “Okay, fine. I’ll go upstairs and change into something else then—”

“No, no, forget it,” she shakes her head. “We don’t have the time for that.” Your mother whirls around, picking up the bag of place holders—she’d special ordered little turkeys carved out of wood. She also takes a marker and a notepad, shoving everything into your hands. “Here. I wrote down all the names of everyone who’s coming for dinner. The children get place holders too but make sure the little ones are sitting beside someone older to help them. Oh! Did I already mention putting your dad at the head of the—”

Tuning her out, your eyes scan down the guest list and if there’s one thing to be thankful for today it’s the fact that your mother’s given you the power to seat everybody wherever you want. Halfway down the list, you see the names of several relatives that you don’t want anywhere near you at the table. An Aunt Miriam who smells like the inside of a casino; a cousin Jennifer who refuses to acknowledge her forty-eight month old is actually four years old; an uncle Richard who always has one too many beers and winds up spewing antigovernment conspiracy theories, ranting until he’s passed out somewhere, such as on the floor of the guest bathroom.

You get to the bottom of the list and can’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. “Joel Miller?”

She nods, returning to her board.

“You remember Mr. Miller, don’t you, sweetie? He and your father went to college together—he’s one of his oldest and dearest friends. Don’t tell me you forgot about him? You’ve met him plenty of ti—”

“Yeah, I remember who Joel is, mom,” you mutter, cutting her off. “Didn’t he and the family move out to Arizona like, four years ago? To Phoenix, right?” You’d been away for college then. Taking a second glance at the list, you notice she had forgotten the names of Joel’s wife and daughter. Surely, it’d just been a mistake on her part, though. “I had no idea they were in town visiting. Dad didn’t mention it to me at all.”

“They’re not.” She lowers her voice, as if someone else is standing in the room listening. “Joel moved back to Austin, he’s been back for a few days now. He and Connie, they um—” Pausing for a moment, she reaches up and clasps the cross hanging from her neck before whispering, “They got divorced.”

Taken aback, your mouth parts slightly. “What?”

“I know. Joel and Connie were the last people that I ever thought would get divorced. Such a shame,” your mother remarks, shaking her head. “I ran into Mrs. Adler at the super market and she was telling me all about it. Thinks they could have saved their marriage if only those two—”

“Would get right with Jesus,” you finish, biting the tiny smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “She says that about everything, mom.”

“Well, she isn’t wrong! The sacrament of marriage is a lifelong bond that shouldn’t be broken. It’s not right.” Dropping her hand away from her necklace, she crosses her arms over chest. “Anyway, Connie stayed in Phoenix. Sarah’s spending Thanksgiving with her. Your father didn’t want Joel spending the holiday alone and invited him over for dinner. That means I need you to be on your very best behavior tonight. I don’t want you embarrassing your father in front of his closest friend. Is that understood?”

You can’t help but scoff a little. “I’m not a child.”

She narrows her eyes at you and scoffs right back, planting her hands on her hips.

“No, you’re a smart aleck. Need I remind you what happened last Thanksgiving with Aunt Ines?”

Of course she didn’t have to remind you about last year’s fiasco with her insufferable bitch of a sister.

“That’s an awfully big piece of pumpkin pie,” she’d remarked loudly, eliciting snickers from everybody sitting at the table. “Don’t forget, dear—a moment on the lips, forever on the hips. And you have quite a few forevers on your hips already, darling.”

You had smiled sweetly at her, your fingers itching to fling your mother’s fine china at her. “I wouldn’t really worry about my pie, Aunt Ines,” you had said as soon as you realized that nobody, not even your parents, would be coming to your defense. “Much less when your husband’s stepping out and eating someone else’s pie when he’s away on all those so called business trips. Worry about that instead.”

That comment hadn’t gone over all too well. Three months later, Aunt Ines and Uncle Louis started to see a marriage counselor. Whoops.

“Well?”

“She deserved that,” you say, shrugging lightly.

“She’s family.”

“She’s a jerk.”

“You crossed a line.”

“She crossed it first.”

Before your mother can respond, the sound of the doorbell ringing echoes throughout the house.

“Jesus, we don’t have time for this!” Your mother’s eyes widen when she tries running a hand through her hair and realizes she still has her rollers in. “Oh no, people are arriving and I’m still not ready!” She makes a beeline for the hallway. “Get the door and greet our guests, I’ll be down in five minutes!”

She disappears upstairs into her bedroom and you hear the doorbell ring again. Your father shouts for someone to go answer it, someone other than him or your brothers because it is the end of the fourth quarter and they just can’t possibly miss that.

You make your way through the foyer and open up the front door expecting it to be one of your family members, but it’s not.

Your throat instantly goes dry at the sight of him.

He’s broader than you remeber, so much broader.

The fabric of his sage green dress shirt is nice and snug on his frame—stretched taut over the planes of his chest and his wide shoulders. He’s holding a box of store bought something or other but you’re much too preoccupied with the way the sleeves of his shirt are hugging his biceps to notice what it is although you assume it’s some kind of dessert. He looks far more delicious than whatever sweet treat could be in that white box he’s got in his hands.

After a minute, you realize you’ve been gawking at him and the heat rushes to your cheeks. “Hello Mr. Miller,” you greet him politely. “It’s very nice to see you again. Please, come on in.”

He smiles, his brown eyes warm and sweet behind his square, black-rimmed glasses. “You remember me,” he states and the syrupy richness of his voice sends a pleasant tingle up your spine. Stepping off to the side, you allow him inside—as he steps past you over the threshold, the tantalizing scent of his cologne almost brings you to your knees. Notes of a citrus accord like tart grapefruit, fresh bergamot mixed with the woodiness of vetiver and musk; it’s intoxicating, something you could easily get drunk off of if you’re not careful. “I’m surprised. S’been a real long time since you last saw me.”

“It hasn’t been all that long,” you reply, closing the door behind you. You speak to him in the steadiest voice you can muster, with nonchalance—as if you aren’t one missed heartbeat away from feeling like a silly little schoolgirl with her first crush. “Has it?”

He thinks about it. “‘Bout four and a half years.”

“That’s really not that long.”

“S’not,” Joel admits with a chuckle. “But with how much I’ve aged in that short amount of time, I just wasn’t sure if you’d recognize me, y’know? I look a lot different than I used to.” He pauses and laughs, shaking his head. “I must look like an old geezer to you now, don’t I?”

Grays lightly pepper his thick dark brown curls, his beard and his mustache. He’s got crows feet when he smiles, he has worry lines and creases between his eyebrows—he does look a lot older, but he’s so goddamn handsome, wrinkles, fine lines, and all.

You toss him a playful eye roll, prompting a grin. “I don’t think you look like an old geezer, Mr. Miller.”

“Well, you’re sure as hell makin’ me feel like an old geezer by callin’ me that, darlin’ girl.” He gives you a little wink and you’re not quite sure if it’s that, or if it was the way he’d used a pet name that knocks all the wind out of your lungs. “Please, just call me Joel.”

You nod and shyly agree to it. “Okay, then. Joel.”

“S’much better.” His grin widens and a prominent, deep dimple appears on the left side of his cheek.

There’s a silence that follows, but it’s not awkward or weird. It’s comfortable—being in his presence is comfortable. His sweet disposition makes you feel so calm, so at ease.

Joel’s always been a nice man of course, although your interactions with him had been limited—kind, quick hello’s in passing on Sundays whenever he’d come over to watch football with your dad, maybe a polite how are you here and there if you bumped into him at gatherings like a backyard barbecue or birthday party. But you’re older now, no longer the child who greeted her father’s best friend because it was bad manners if she didn’t. You don’t want to throw him that kind, quick hello or that polite how are you and then scurry off the way you used to as a little kid. You actually want to talk to Joel Miller.

But you suddenly remember he’s not here for you.

He’s here for your father.

Joel!” Your mother screeches, five-inch high heels clacking loudly as she descends the staircase. She had ditched the apron and hair rollers—and put on one too many layers of her heaviest perfume. With a delighted squeal, she rushes up to Joel and pulls him into a bone crushing hug, almost causing him to drop the box he’s still holding. “Oh, it is so good to see you! It’s been far too long!”

You force back a small, amused snort.

As if she hadn’t been judging the man for a failed marriage just minutes ago in the kitchen.

It’s performative, too over the top to be sincere.

“S’good to see you too.” He steps back and laughs as he adjusts his glasses with one of his hands. He holds out the box to her with the other. “Picked up a pecan pie on the way over here. I would’a tried to make it myself, but the kitchen’s still all packed up in boxes.” He pauses, laughing again. “Then again, I ain’t really much of a baker. Store bought was for the best I reckon,” he admits, sheepishly. When he shrugs his shoulders, his shirt strains a bit over his frame and even your mother can’t help but stare a little.

Lightly clearing her throat, she takes the box from him and reminds him, “Didn’t I tell you that all you had to bring tonight was a nice, healthy appetite?”

Joel lightly pats his stomach. “Brought that too. In fact, I didn’t eat a thing all day long. I’m absolutely starvin’ right now. Could eat a whole horse.”

“Good! Dinner’s going to be served soon. William’s in the living room with the boys, watching football game after football game. Come with me, I’m sure you’re eager to see him.” Your mother spins on her heel and hands you the dessert. “Sweetie, will you be a gem and go put this in the kitchen for me?” It isn’t a request, it’s an order masked as a request—it’s the kindest she’s been to you all day. She takes Joel’s arm and leads him down the hallway, calling out over her shoulder, “And please set the table!”

You do set the table, and when you do, you decide to sit yourself right next to Joel Miller.

Your mother lightly clinks her knife against the rim of her wine glass and clears her throat. “Everyone! It’s time to join hands and say grace before we dig into our meal,” she announces, her voice breaking through the loud, buzzing chatter at the table. She waits until there’s complete silence and then takes her seat, the chair adjacent to your father’s. You’re on his opposite side and Joel’s right beside you. “I think you should do the honor, William. You are the man of the house, after all.”

Nodding, your father begins the prayer.

“Heavenly Father, bless this food we are about—”

You’re not listening. You’re distracted by the jolt of electricity that zips through your entire body when you put your hand in Joel’s. His hand dwarfs yours and it’s rough and calloused, but somehow it’s the most gentle, soothing touch. Heat prickles at your face and neck when you feel him sweep his thumb across the back of your hand—you open your eyes and glance over at him, wondering if that had just been an accident. You’re convinced it was, until he does it again, running his finger over each knuckle one at a time. Slowly, like he’s savoring the touch.

Biting your lip, you give his hand a gentle squeeze.

His head is bowed and his eyes are still closed, but a faint smile tugs lightly at the corner of his mouth and he firmly squeezes your hand back. There’s an unmistakable desire that’s already burning deep in your lower belly, a flame you can’t extinguish even when the angel on your shoulder reminds you that not only is Joel Miller twice your fucking age, he is also your father’s best friend. His best friend.

“…through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” your relatives chime together in unison.

You force out the declaration. “Amen.”

“Amen,” Joel murmurs, opening his eyes. He turns to you and his gaze flits to your hand in his and for a moment, it almost seems like he doesn’t want to let it go. It feels like Joel doesn’t want to let it go—and he doesn’t. He doesn’t let it go until the sound of your father’s loud, booming voice announcing it is time for him to carve the bird startles the two of you apart. Clearing his throat lightly, Joel turns his attention forward and reaches for his cabernet. He gulps down half his glass in one easy swallow.

Dinner’s fairly uneventful.

You eat in complete silence, as does Joel.

Part of you wonders if it’s because you’re sitting in between him and your father, the only person that he’s most comfortable conversing with. Assuming this is the case, you’re just about to ask him if he’d like to trade places when he turns to you and says, “Your dad told me you went to school in Chicago.”

He’s just being friendly, you remind yourself when your heart starts to flutter wildly at the notion that he wants to talk to you. He’s friendly. That’s all. It doesn’t mean anything.

“Yeah. I did.” You pick up your glass of wine, taking a sip hoping it’ll ease the nerves. “I graduated over the summer and took a teaching job out there.”

“You became a teacher?”

“Yeah. I teach kindergarten.” You smile proudly.

“Can you believe that, Joel?” Your father lets out a scoff and shakes his head. “I spent thousands and thousands of dollars to send her to school. All that money and for what? For her to learn how to teach little ankle biters how to color inside the lines?” He rolls his eyes and gestures to your two brothers on the opposite side of the table. “Now my boys, they are smart. Chose good careers to pursue. Brandon starts applying to medical school in the spring. Oh and Matthew? He got early acceptance to Yale. He plans on studying law.” He shifts his attention over to you once more and shrugs. “Not too sure where I went wrong with this one.”

You stare at him in complete and utter disbelief.

“Dad.”

Chortling, he waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, come on, honey. I’m just kidding around. You know that I don’t mean it.” He then reaches out, pinching your cheek roughly. “Don’t be so sensitive,” he tells you before turning his attention back to his plate.

But he does mean it.

His comments hurt, and you hate that they hurt.

Joel nudges your arm with his. “Y’know somethin’, it takes someone real special to become a teacher, ‘specially to kids that age,” he states in a matter of fact tone. “Someone who’s real sweet and patient, someone real smart too. Someone just like you.”

Warmth radiates through your entire body. It’s not just his words, but it’s the sincerity behind them.

You shoot him a small, grateful smile.

The two of you wind up talking to one another.

Joel’s moving his contracting business, bringing it back to Austin from Phoenix to run it with Tommy, his younger brother who you vaguely remembered meeting a time or two in the past. He mentions his daughter here and there, but doesn’t bring Connie up once—perhaps it’s too painful for him? It’s hard to tell. He seems to be in good spirits and truth be told, it doesn’t appear he’s mourning his marriage; but it’s difficult to believe he’s not missing her, the woman he’d spent three decades of his life with. It shouldn’t even matter to you whether he’s missing his ex-wife or not, if there are residual feelings still lingering around. But it does matter and you don’t know why. Or maybe you do know why, but you’re too ashamed to admit it.

“Do you like Chicago?” Joel questions, curiously.

Shrugging, you respond, “Yeah. It’s a cool city.”

“You plan on stayin’ out there permanently?”

“I’m not too sure,” you admit. “It’s too expensive. I don’t want to live with a roommate forever. Unless teachers start getting paid more, I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to afford to live alone in Chicago.”

Joel seems hesitant about his next query. “Do you ever think ‘bout comin’ back to Austin at all?”

Suddenly, you’re not too sure about that either.

You’ve been itching to go back and get as far from Austin, Texas as possible, but now, it means being far from Joel Miller. There’s a deep, sinking feeling inside of your chest at the thought.

Realizing he’s still waiting for a response, you have no choice but to tell him the truth. “I don’t think I’ll ever come back here, to be honest. Not to stay.”

“Oh. I see.” He sounds disappointed. “Are you—do you plan on visitin’ home again for Christmas?”

“I do. I’ll be here for Christmas and New Year’s.”

He’s being friendly. He’s being friendly. He’s—

“It’d be real nice to see you again then.” Flushing a deep shade of red, subtle regret flashes across his features, as if he’d said it without thinking. Picking up his glass, he drains the rest of his wine and you can swear he’s nervous. About what he’d just said, and about whether or not your parents, who are in such close proximity, had overheard him. Because what business did he have in telling their daughter it would be nice to see her again?

They’re both much too preoccupied. Your father is attempting to be slick checking his text messages underneath the table and you can tell by the smirk on his face that it’s one of his secretaries. He’s got a penchant for perky blondes in tight pencil skirts. Your mother is well aware of this. She is also aware he’s on his phone, but she turns a blind eye just as she always does and distracts herself by being the perfect hostess.

Feeling foolishly courageous, you turn back to him and nod, heart pounding against your sternum. “It would. It’d be very nice, actually.”

Relieved, he nods and murmurs quietly, “We’ll talk ‘bout it later, then. That okay, darlin’?”

Not wanting to seem too eager, you nod again and turn away from him, teeth sinking into your lip in a futile attempt to hide the giddiness in your smile—but the soft chuckle Joel elicits under his breath is a clear indication that it’s useless.

He knows how he’s making you feel. He likes it.

Your mother returns from the kitchen carrying two baskets of fresh crescent rolls, one for each end of the table. She sets one of them down right in front of you and you reach out to take one when a voice, one that sounds as awful as nails scraping down a chalkboard, remarks loudly, “Should you be eating so much bread, dear?” Ines, who’s sitting a couple chairs down, next to your grandmother, looks over at you and raises an eyebrow. There’s a smug little smile on her face, almost as if she were daring you to run your mouth like you’d done last year.

For as much as it pains you, you make your choice and decide not to take the bait. You pull your hand out of the basket of rolls and pick up your glass of wine instead, chugging it down like it’s water.

Frowning, Joel picks up the basket and takes a roll that you assume is for himself, but it’s not. Putting it on your plate, he shoots her a frigid glare. “Don’t you listen to her.” He says it loud enough for her to hear him. “You just enjoy yourself, alright?”

Your aunt bats her eyes, innocently. “Well, I’m just saying. If my skirt was that tight on me, I would be thinking twice about what goes into my mouth.”

Hushed laughter sweeps across the entire table.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” You slam your empty glass down so hard onto the table that the entire dining room goes completely silent. The little ones at the children’s table stare with big and wide eyes, mouths full of food hung open because a grown up had just used a naughty word.

Your mother says your name warningly. “Don’t you start,” she hisses, shaking her head. “Be quiet.”

Angrily, you round on her. “Seriously? You’re going to let her say that to me? You don’t care that she’s making comments about my weight?” You almost laugh. Of course doesn’t care, she has never cared and she never will. “I’m your daughter! Would it kill you to defend me for once in your fucking life?”

“Shut your mouth!” Your father stands up, shoving a threatening finger into your face, so close the tip of it almost touches the tip of your nose. He hasn’t put his hands on you since you were nine, but he’s as drunk as he is angry, and you find yourself back in the shoes of the little girl who would curl up into a ball in the corner of her room as she begged and pleaded for him not to hurt her. “You hear me?”

Joel stands and walks around your chair. Placing a hand on your father’s chest, he mutters, “Hey now let’s take a step back from her, alright?” He guides him back down into his chair. “Ain’t gotta be in her face like that, Will.”

“I’m sick and tired of her ruining everything—can’t get through one dinner without her screwing it up! Always has to run that fucking mouth of hers! She still acts like a goddamn fucking child—”

You can’t bear to sit there and hear another insult.

Fighting back the hot tears that are threatening to spill over, you quickly stand up and rush out of the dining room. You make a beeline for the front door and step outside onto the porch. It’s about sixty or so degrees in Austin and the cold nips at your bare legs, but that’s the least of your worries. Without a place to go, you descend the porch steps and find yourself walking towards the swing that’s hanging from the old bur oak tree in the front yard. You had asked your father for a swing when you were three years old—it wasn’t until your brothers asked for a swing a couple years later that he’d hung one up.

You sit down, hands curling around the rope that’s so old and weathered it’s beginning to fray slightly but not so much so that you’re concerned about it snapping. You’re so busy trying to keep it together that you don’t notice the sound of crisp, autumnal leaves crunching under a pair of boots behind you. A hand gingerly touches your shoulder. You let out a startled gasp and glance over to see it’s Joel.

“Hey there, darlin’,” he says, gently.

You stare at him in surprise.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Needed to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” you grit the lie through your teeth.

Joel’s expression softens. “You ain’t gotta pretend with me, sweetheart.”

His concern is genuine. It’s real.

You don’t quite know how to handle it. Accept it.

“It got real ugly in there, ‘specially with your dad.”

Tears prickle at your eyes all over again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Joel. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” Baffled, Joel walks around the swing and a minor labored grunt escapes him as he squats in front of you. “There’s a few people who need to be apologizin’ for what happened, but darlin’ you sure as fuckin’ hell ain’t one of them.”

It’s odd. Feels foreign, even.

You’re not used to someone being on your side—it prompts more tears to spring forward and despite your best efforts to fight them off, it’s useless. You manage to whisper his name. It’s a feeble warning, one that’s telling him to go back inside before he’s caught in the torrential downpour of emotions you are mere seconds away from unleashing on him.

But he doesn’t budge. He waits. Joel knows you’re about to break and he’s ready to catch the pieces.

Finally, a tear slips and rolls down your cheek, only to be followed by another and then another. You’re holding onto the swing for dear life now, emotions that you’ve been holding in for your whole life now coming to the surface. The rope digs painfully into the palms of your hands. He reaches out and curls his fingers lightly around your wrists.

“S’okay to let go,” Joel encourages you and you’re certain he’s not just referring to the swing. “Listen to me, darlin’ girl. I ain’t gonna let you fall, alright? I’m right here to catch you. You can let go. I’ve got you, okay?”

You allow Joel to take your hands off the rope and he guides them around his shoulders as you begin to crumble. Leaning forward slightly off the swing, you wrap you arms around him and bury your face into his neck. “Joel,” you choke out his name as he wraps his own arms around your waist, pulling you closer into him.

He feels like stability.

He feels like security.

He feels like safety.

Your entire body shudders as you cry, cry, cry.

“S’alright, sweet girl. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

He repeats his reassurance over and over again.

He wants you to believe it.

And you do believe it.

Joel’s as patient as can be. It’s growing colder and his knees are begging for a change of positon, but couldn’t care less about the discomfort. He rubs a soothing circle into your back and waits until there is nothing left except little hiccups and sniffles.

“Shit,” you mumble when you pull back and notice you’d left behind a wet spot on his shirt along with light traces of mascara. You wipe at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater. “I ruined your shirt.”

“S’okay. Nothin’ the dry cleaners can’t take care of for me.” Joel chuckles and lets go of you. “You feel a little better now, darlin’?”

“I do.” You glance over your shoulder at the house, then exhale a sigh and turn back to him, admitting quietly, “I don’t want to go back in there, though.”

He rises to his feet and pulls out a set of keys from the pocket of his black jeans. “Well, y’dont have to go back in there,” he states. “Is there somewhere I can take you? Friend’s house, maybe?”

“My best friend Megan went to Puerto Vallarta for Thanksgiving. Most of my other friends left Austin like I did,” you explain, sighing again. “Anyone who didn’t leave is spending their time with their family tonight and I don’t want to bother them.”

Joel hums, mulling it over in his mind. “Well, don’t know how comfortable you’ll be with the idea, but my place ain’t all too far from here. Ten minutes or so. Less if there’s no one out on the roads.”

“Joel, that’s so nice of you to offer, but I’ve already ruined your dinner tonight. The last thing I want to do is put you out even more,” you say, sheepishly.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t ruin a fuckin’ thing for me tonight. And you wouldn’t be puttin’ me out at all,” he promises. “S’gettin’ late and truth be told, I just wanna get you somewhere warm.” Holding out his free hand, he adds, “And comfortable.”

“But Joel—”

“I can be real stubborn too, y’know,” he teases you with a playful grin. “We’ll be out here all night long freezin’ our fuckin’ asses off.”

He isn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Okay,” you relent, accepting the offer.

You place your hand in his and he helps you off the swing. He doesn’t let it go as he leads the way to a sleek, black Dodge Ram that’s parked behind your grandfather’s silver Mercedes. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze before dropping it. “Sorry, sweet girl. It’s a bit of a trip up into the seat,” he remarks, chuckling as he opens the passenger side door for you. He gives you a boost into the truck; the scent of new leather is mixed with that of his cologne. It is all man and couldn’t be sexier. “Good up there?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Joel closes the door and hurriedly walks around to the driver’s side of the pickup, climbing up into his seat with ease. “Seatbelt,” he tells you as he sticks the key into the ignition. The first thing he does as soon as the engine roars to life is turn on your seat warmer. He switches on the heater as well, waiting a minute before asking, “You warm enough?”

“I am. Thank you, Joel.”

“‘Course.” He nods and pulls away from the curb.

As Joel’s driving you further and further from your parents’ house, all you feel is sweet relief.

“M’sorry the place is such a mess.”

Joel leads you into his living room and touches his hand to the back of his neck, embarrassed.

Amused, you raise an eyebrow at him and say, “I’d hardly call cardboard boxes stacked neatly over on one side of the room a mess, Joel.” You take a look around his townhouse—most of his furniture’s still wrapped up in plastic, except for the black leather couch and the rustic, acacia wood coffee table. He has a flat screen mounted over the brick fireplace; he’s been sleeping on the couch, or at least, that’s what the pillow and Texas Longhorns fleece throw tells you. You turn to him. “If you want to see a real mess, you should see my apartment in Chicago.”

You watch him as he takes off his glasses and puts them down on the coffee table.

“S’it pretty bad?”

“My roommate’s a kindergarten teacher too. You’d be surprised at how many popsicle sticks two girls in their twenties can end up bringing home. Not to mention all the glitter.”

“If you’re tryin’ to make me feel better, it’s workin’ like a charm.” Joel picks up his blanket and drapes it over the armchair adjacent to the couch. “Go on and make yourself comfortable, darlin’. You thirsty at all? I’ve got water or I can make coffee. Also got a pack of beer in the fridge,” he adds, jokingly.

“What kind of beer?” you ask curiously as you sink down onto the couch.

He seems pleasantly surprised by your interest.

“Lone Star.”

“I’ll have one. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“‘Course it’s not too much trouble. Not at all.”

It’s hard not to stare as he walks away towards the kitchen. Your thighs clench together—his back, his shoulders, those unkempt salt and pepper curls of his that tuft at the nape of his neck right above his collar—this man is the epitome of utter perfection. Your mind wanders and you can’t help imagine the way your legs would look thrown over those broad shoulders. How his large hands would feel on your plush skin as they wrap around your thighs to hold them in place against his chest while he fucks y—

“Here you go, darlin’.”

Joel’s deep voice shatters your train of thought.

He’s standing beside you, holding out the bottle of beer, which he’d uncapped along with his own.

Blood rushes to your cheeks. “Thank you,” you say as you accept the beer from him, trying not to lose the sliver of composure that you’re holding onto—it wavers when your fingers accidentally brush his.

“S’it too cold in here for you?” he asks. “I normally keep the thermostat pretty low.”

“It’s a little cold,” you admit. “But it’s not a prob—”

It’s too late. Joel walks over to the fireplace and he manages to strike a match and light it with just his free hand. After tossing in a couple logs, he makes his way back over to the couch and he takes a seat beside you. “That a bit better, sweetheart?”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugs. “You said it was cold.”

He takes a long, generous swig of the golden lager before setting the bottle down on one of the green ceramic coasters on the coffee table. He sits back; an arm stretches out over the back of the couch in a casual manner and his legs spread open causing your thighs to clench together once more.

“You feelin’ alright?”

“Huh?” You then realize he is referring to what had happened at dinner. “Oh. Um. Yeah, I’m alright.”

Joel peers at you, his concern evident, clear in the depths of his dark brown eyes. “You sure?”

“No. Not really,” you confess, tracing the mouth of your bottle with your index finger. “But I’ll get over it. I don’t have a choice but to get over it.” Another lump starts forming in the back of your throat and you swallow it, quickly chasing it down with a gulp of beer.

“M’guessin’ your family’s got somethin’ to do with why you decided to leave Austin?”

“Bingo,” you deadpan. “I was so sick and tired of it all. How I was talked to, how I was treated. Like I’m such a fucking disappointment.”

He frowns. “You’re not a disappointment, though.”

“My parents think I’m a disappointment. My dad’s never told me he’s proud of me, Joel. Nothing I do, nothing I have ever done is good enough for either of them, but especially not for him.” There is a dull ache that settles in your heart and all you can do is silently will yourself not to breakdown again, not in front of him, at least. You sigh. “Do you know what it’s like, not feeling good enough for someone that is supposed to love you no matter what? Someone who’s supposed to love you unconditionally?”

Joel knows it’s a rhetorical question, he knows it’s not something you’re expecting him to answer.

But he does answer, because he does know.

“I do, actually. I know all too well what it feels like.”

He looks down at his left hand, which is resting on his thigh and you do too. Your eyes flicker over the fading tanline on his finger—where he once wore a wedding band. You don’t even think twice about it and reach over, sweeping your own finger over the patch of pale skin. Without missing a beat, you tell him, “You’re good enough, Joel.”

He can’t help but laugh a little. “She’d disagree.”

“She’s wrong.”

“You don’t know what happened.”

“I don’t have to know what happened.”

“That ain’t how it works, sweetheart.”

Stubbornly, you lift your chin. “I don’t care.”

Joel laughs. “Y’think you know me, darlin’? Y’think you know what kinda man I am? Hm?”

“I do know.” You place your hand on top of his and his jaw clenches. “You’re a good man, Joel Miller. I know that you’re a good man.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong ‘bout that.” There’s a brief pause and he hesitates before confessing, “A good man wouldn’t be sittin’ here just fuckin’ dyin’ to kiss his best friend’s daughter.”

You freeze and grip your bottle so tight, you would not be the slightest bit surprised if it shatters right in your hand. “You—you want to kiss me?”

“Since the moment you opened up that front door and said hello to me.” Joel shakes his head. “S’not right.” He’s riddled with guilt, with shame. He pulls his hand out from under yours. “I ain’t a good man at all. You’re half my fuckin’ age and I shouldn’t—”

You cut him off, softly uttering his name. “Joel?”

“Yeah?” His voice sounds hoarse. Strained.

“Can you—will you kiss me? Please?”

You need more than just his kiss, so much more.

You need him to unravel you in every way possible, but beggars can’t be choosers and if one kiss was all you’ll get tonight, then you’ll fucking take it.

Joel swallows dryly. “That really what you want?”

His eyes flicker down to your lips and then back to meet your sweet, innocent gaze.

“Yes,” you breathe in reply. “Please. Kiss me.”

He leans in, and there’s brief hesitation on his part and he stops mere centimeters from your face, his nose lightly brushing against yours. “We shouldn’t be doin’ this.” His warm breath fans over your lips; they’re parted, eager to meet his own. “I shouldn’t let this happen. I—I should take you back home to your family before I do somethin’ real stupid.”

Your heart sinks. “That really what you want?” you parrot his own question back to him and hold your breath, knowing there’s a chance his answer could be the answer that you don’t want to hear, the one that could end up crushing you.

Joel lifts his hand, cupping the side of your face in his palm. “‘Course it’s not what I want.” His thumb strokes your cheek, his dark eyes taking in each of your features. He’s studying, memorizing them, as if he’ll never get another chance to be this close to you again. With the line he’s about to cross, you’re both about to cross, that just might be the case.

The tension seeps through your skin and into your bones.

You exhale shakily. “Then just kiss me already.”

He moves his hand and gently curls it around your chin, holding you steady as he leans further in and closes the gap of space in between you. He moves slowly and he’s gentle—too gentle. You want to tell him you’re not made of porcelain, but you’re much too preoccupied with how Joel’s mouth feels, how perfectly it molds against yours. He delicately nips your bottom lip with his teeth. It’s a silent request.

He wants more, more, more. Your lips part for him, granting him the access he’s seeking. Joel doesn’t waste a single moment and he explores every inch of your mouth with his tongue, eliciting a whimper from you. Without breaking contact, he takes your beer and somehow he manages to lean over to set it down on the coffee table without dropping it. He then pushes you back into the couch and the next thing you know, you’re lying on your back and he’s settled in between your legs, using one of his arms to keep himself propped up, while the other wraps itself in your hair. Your own hands clutch at fistfuls of his shirt, fingers gripping the fabric so tight, the skin over your knuckles stretches painfully thin.

You whimper out again, the noise prompting a low growl to rumble through his chest—suddenly, he’s not being so gentle. He isn’t being rough. But he is hungry, he’s possessive, and he’s letting it show in the way he’s swelling your lips with his kisses, how his fingers are gripping the hair at the base of your neck as he firmly tilts your head backwards to give himself better access to your mouth.

Your mind is racing, and yet, you can’t think at all.

It’s not until his hips buck into you and you feel his bulge through his jeans against you that you break away from him. “Joel,” you gasp his out name. You grip his shirt even harder, chest heaving as you try to catch a much needed breath of air. You can feel the arousal pooling between your legs. The flames burning in the fireplace are nothing in comparison to the ones that are burning deep in your belly.

“Fuck,” he curses, pulling back. “M’sorry—”

The last thing you want is for him to be sorry.

“No! Please don’t be sorry,” you rasp, gazing up at him. Your eyes are glazed over with a lust you have never felt for another man before. “I want this, you know I want this—don’t you?”

Joel sighs, brushing a soft kiss to your temple. You wish he could take a peek into your mind, see how badly you want to be wrapped up in his arms—you want to get lost in his embrace, feel him all around you, inside you. You want him to write his name on your bare skin with his tongue, whisper his secrets into the spot where you’re aching for him most.

He sighs again and lightly shakes his head.

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

“I want this,” you repeat yourself. “I want you.”

Relaxing the death grip you have on his shirt, your hands release the fabric and move to the buttons. Your fingers tremble slightly as you undo each one of them; after an embarrassing fumble or two, you manage to get them all and push Joel’s shirt off of his shoulders. He sucks in a quick, sharp breath as your greedy hands begin roaming, exploring every inch of smooth, tan skin on his upper body.

Your touch erases all the uncertainty he’s feeling.

“Wanna feel you too, baby.” Joel takes the hem of your sweater and gestures for you to sit up slightly so he can pull it over your head. Carelessly tossing it somewhere behind him, he glances down, blood rushing to his cock as he takes in the sight of your supple curves clad in sweet, delicate white lace. “Christ, you look so fuckin’ soft.”

He doesn’t even realize he’s saying it out loud, not until he catches the flirtatious little grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. You sit up slightly once again and reach behind you to unhook the lingerie and take it off, adding it to the ever growing pile of clothes on the hardwood floor. Licking his lips, he meets your gaze for just a moment before dipping his head down, wrapping them around one of your hardened nipples. “Joel,” you mewl his name as he flicks the pebbled flesh with his tongue.

Joel releases it with a lewd, wet pop and he tosses you a smirk before he moves to the other to give it the same attention. He’s a biter, you find out as he takes it between his teeth, nipping over and over.

Your throbbing center clenches around nothing.

“Joel, please. I need you—I fucking need you.”

He tears away from your nipple. “Where, baby?”

You open your mouth to answer him, but your own gasp cuts you off as he starts trailing his lips down the length of your body until he comes to a stop at the waistband of your skirt. One of his hands finds the zipper on the side and he looks up at you, as if asking for permission. Desperate, you nod. Pulling the zipper down, he slides the skirt, along with the pair of lace white panties you’re wearing off of you and discards them, leaving you completely naked.

Your insecurities begin to trickle in, but Joel’s able to halt them right in their tracks.

“You’re too fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart,” he says, his reassurance calming your nerves instantly. “So beautiful. So beautiful and so fuckin’ perfect.”

You watch as he makes himself comfortable—well as comfortable as he can—in between your legs. He shoots you a sheepish look.

“Knew I should’a put the damn bed together. But I been puttin’ it off and puttin’ it off all week long.”

You giggle breathlessly. “Who needs a bed?”

Chuckling, Joel feathers a kiss on your inner thigh.

Your smile is all but slapped right off of your face.

“Joel.”

Any traces of humor vanish. You’re both reminded of the next wall that’s about to be broken, the next line that’s about to be crossed.

He looks down and groans. “Such a pretty, perfect little pussy,” he remarks, his voice low, husky. “Bet she’s nice and wet for me, ain’t she baby?” He lifts his hand and drags the tip of his finger up your slit slowly, your slick coating his digit. He smirks up at you. “Oh, she’s fuckin’ soakin’, sweet girl. S’this all for me?”

Foreplay wasn’t in the vocabulary of guys your age and while part of you wishes Joel would hurry, you also find yourself enjoying the fact that he’s taking his time, teasing you—making you really want it to the point where you’re willing to fucking plead him for it. Joel Miller’s the only man you’d ever beg for.

He skims your other thigh with his nose and kisses it just like he’d done with the other. “Tell me darlin’ s’this where you need me? Right here?”

Frantically, you nod your head.

“Words, honey. Gotta use your words for me.”

“Yes!” you choke out. “That’s where I need you. So bad. Need you so fucking bad. Please Daddy—”

You freeze and momentarily, he does too. Truth be told, you wouldn’t really blame him if he just stood up, gathered your clothes and tossed them at you, demanding you put them back on and leave.

Joel raises an eyebrow. “Daddy, huh?”

Your face is on fire. “I—it slipped,” you stammer. “I didn’t mean to call you—I’m so sorry, Joel. I’m not even sure where that came from. I’ve never—”

You’re on the verge of panicking, then notice there is a certain glimmer in his eyes and realize he liked it when you’d called him that. You’re taken aback.

He fucking likes being called Daddy.

“Sweetheart, there ain’t nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout. I promise. You can call me that. But on a condition.”

You stare at him, no idea what the condition could possibly be.

“Ain’t allowed to call anyone else that. Ever.” There is a possessiveness in his tone and it nearly makes you come on the spot. “That understood?”

You nod obediently. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” he prompts.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good. That’s a real good girl, honey.”

For a split second, you can’t breathe.

This man will surely be the death of you.

Joel plants one final kiss, this one on your mound.

“Please,” you whimper, the heat in your lower belly growing and fizzling out to the rest of your body at the feeling of his breath over your aching core.

“Please what?” he murmurs into the sensitive skin as his arms curl around your legs. “Tell Daddy—tell Daddy what you need baby, so he can take care of you.”

“Your mouth,” you beg him, desperation mounting with each passing second. Your hips buck upward; his biceps flex as he tightens his arms around your thighs, pinning you down in place. “Your mouth—I need your mouth. Please.”

Joel moves his head to the junction of your thighs, his mouth hovering right over where you needed it the most. He looks up at you with hunger, like he’s a ravenous, starved man who hasn’t had a thing to eat in days. “What a good girl,” he praises, dipping his head even lower. His mouth waters at the sight of your glistening folds. “Bet you taste as delicious as you fuckin’ look, don’t you, pretty girl?”

He flattens his tongue and glides it up your slit, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he gets his first taste. You gasp out when it grazes your swollen, aroused clit and your head falls back onto the couch. “Oh fuck,” you whine, reaching for his hair. You weave your hands through his graying locks and pull his face closer. Another swipe of his tongue causes your back to arch up off the leather and the edges of your vision to blur.

He pulls an arm from around your legs and drags a finger down your drenched entrance, lips securing themselves around your clit. His gaze stays locked on you as he pushes his long, thick digit into you—you feel him smirk as he curls it upwards, pressing the pad of his finger firmly against the soft spongy spot inside you, making you see stars. Joel slips in a second finger and curls it along with the other to double the pleasure. He begins thrusting his digits in and out of your warm cunt, eliciting what had to be the sweetest sounds that he’d ever heard in his entire life from you. He combines it with with slow, firm, and precise stokes of his tongue on your clit.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” you encourage him, your loud, breathy moans bouncing off the bare, freshly painted walls of his house. “Yes Daddy, fuck—feels so fucking good, please don’t fucking stop—”

It’s not like you have to tell him what to do.

Joel knows exactly what he’s doing, and he knows it too. He listens to every single one of your moans and feels every single buck of your hips. He is sure to pay extra attention to when your hands pull and tug at his curls; he remembers what combinations of licking, sucking, and fucking make you squeeze your plush thighs tighter around his head; reminds himself of which technique brings your body off of the couch, what makes your toes curl. Joel’s quick to learn your body’s cues, each and every last one. He already knows when to give you more, when to give you less—when he needs speed up, when it is time to slow it all down.

You sing his name over and over again, pressure of an orgasm already building between your hips. His tongue swirls around your sensitive little bundle of nerves as his fingers pump in and out of your cunt and you glance down. You almost choke when you catch a tiny glimpse of the muscles in his forearm, the way they flex underneath his skin with each of his movements as he’s fucking you. Your gaze flits to his face. His own eyes are fixed intently on you.

You’re milliseconds away from release.

“Joel, I’m so fucking close. I’m gonna come—”

His arm squeezes your thigh in encouragement.

One last, broad stroke of Joel’s tongue on your clit sends an overwhelming wave of pleasure crashing over you. Strangled cries tear themselves from the back of your throat as your velvet walls flutter and convulse, squeezing his fingers. Joel, who’s face is still half buried in your pussy, takes it upon himself to help you ride through the high. He peppers soft, delicate kisses onto your swollen clit as his fingers continue to slide in and out of you slowly. He waits patiently until your loud cries dissolve into nothing but breathless little whimpers before he crawls up, positioning himself on top of you, a hand on either side of your head. His beard and mustache glisten with a mixture of saliva and slick—and somehow it it ignites another fire and you’re ready for more, so much more.

“Sweet girl,” Joel murmurs. Leaning down, his lips meet yours and you taste yourself on his tongue

You place a hand on his chest, right over his heart, which beats strong and steady against your palm.

You start dragging your hand down his chest, your fingernails raking over his skin. It travels lower and lower, gliding over the softness of his stomach. He tenses when you brush the waistband of his jeans.

Tearing away from you, he grits out, “Baby. No.”

You immediately snatch your hand away from him.

“You changed your mind?” you question, stomach sinking at the thought of it being over already.

You’re just so fucking greedy for this man.

He offers reassurance—and an explanation.

“No, that ain’t it at all. S’just—” Joel pauses briefly and flushes a shade of red. “S’just that, well, I ain’t got condoms on me, darlin’.”

Relieved, you assure him, “It’s okay. I’m clean.”

“Me too. But that ain’t what I’m worried about,” he admits, his face going from red to maroon.

You smile, finding his embarrassment endearing.

“I’m on birth control.”

Joel clenches his hands into fists. His cock strains against his zipper at the thought of it—taking your cunt bare. “Y’sure you want this?” He rasps out. “I need you to be a hundred percent sure ‘bout it.”

“I’m a thousand percent sure, Joel. I fucking need it. More than anything I’ve ever needed in my life.”

That’s all he needed to hear.

Joel stands up, his gaze never leaving your own as he kicks off his black leather boots. You sit up, and it takes every ounce of strength you have in you to remain composed as he unbuckles his belt, unzips his jeans and pushes them down his legs. You bite down on your bottom lip and try not to stare at his bulge like it’s your first time ever seeing a dick, but if he’s as big as he looks in his boxer briefs, maybe this would end up being a lot more than what your body could handle.

He hooks his thumbs underneath the elastic of his boxer briefs and slides them off, allowing his thick, hard cock to spring free from its confinement.

You swallow harshly. He’s fucking massive.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” Joel chuckles at the expression on your face as he kicks aside all of his clothes. His length rests on his lower abdomen and precome smears the skin there. Wrapping one of his hands around it, he gives it a couple strokes, just a hint of relief until you come into play. “Hm?”

Licking your lips, you nod and stand up. You take a couple of wobbling step towards him—Joel’s cock hasn’t been anywhere near you and you’re already fucking walking side to side. “Come here,” you say to him, taking both his hands in your own. You pull him back to the couch and gently guide him down into a sitting position. Swinging your leg over both of his, you straddle his lap. You gingerly place your hands on his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh softly when you feel him brush against your pussy; the contact makes you both moan in unsion. “This okay?” you ask him, breathily. You can’t be sure as to why you’re suddenly feeling a bit shy, like you’re not planning to ride his fucking soul out of him.

“More than okay.” Joel brushes your hair over your shoulder and then drags his hand down the length of your body, committing to his memory every one of your curves. “Gonna be a real good girl and ride my cock, baby?”

You gift him with a cheeky grin. “Yes, Daddy.”

The shyness begins to dissipate and you dive your hand between your bodies, wrapping it around his cock, causing his breath to catch in his throat. You lift yourself slightly off his lap, teasingly gliding the head of his cock down your drenched slit, then up, letting it graze over your clit, which is still senstive to the touch thanks to his lips and tongue.

Joel’s hands find their way around you, running up the curve of your spine. “Wasn’t aware that my girl was such a little fuckin’ tease,” he remarks in a low tone. He slides his hands back down and his large, warm palms cup your ass, fingers kneading flesh.

“Your girl?” you repeat, your heart skipping a beat, stomach fluttering at the idea of being his. “Is that what I am to you, Joel? Your girl?”

“S’that what you want, honey?” Joel whispers, his eyes finding your own, two hopeful gazes meeting in the deepest, most intimate moment that you’ve shared all evening. “Y’wanna be my girl?”

Leaning forward, your reply is preceded by kiss, so soft and so sweet his heart swells inside his chest.

“I do,” you mumble against his lips. “I really do.”

Still gripping your ass, Joel eases you up and lines himself up at your entrance. He bucks his hips and slides the head of his cock past your folds and into your heat. “Breathe, baby,” he whispers, his hands moving to your hips, thumbs grazing your skin. He slowly guides you further down his shaft, grunting as you sink down, taking him inch by inch. “Christ, you’re so goddamn fuckin’ tight—”

The initial stretch is almost too much for you. Your nails sink deeper into his shoulders as he pulls you down further down onto him. “Joel,” you whimper, biting back a loud cry. You’re fully seated, his cock completely sheathed inside you, his head pressing against your cervix. You’re so full of him.

One of his hands abandons your hip and slips over your lower belly.

“This where you’re feelin’ me, pretty girl?” he coos gently. “This where you feel Daddy’s cock? In your belly?”

“Yes,” you sigh out contentedly. “Feels so good.”

You lift yourself off of him, then slide back down in a slow, languid motion.

Joel’s head falls back onto the couch. “Christ.” He mutters the word, his chest heaving. Staring up at the ceiling, he takes a moment to catch his breath and silently wills himself not to explode. Once he’s managed to somewhat compose himself, he looks at you again, pupils blown so wide you can’t find a single trace of brown. “Go on, then,” he rasps. “Go on, sweetheart.”

The living room fills with the sounds of low moans and panting breaths as you move, alternating your maneuvers between rocking and bouncing on him in a frenzied, fast paced rhythm. The friction of his pelvis each time you grind into it winds up the coil between your hips and suddenly you’re desperate, so pathetically desperate for another release.

“Yeah, that’s it baby,” Joel encourages, feeling the beginning of his own climax building quick—much too quick for his liking. “Jus’ like that, honey. What a good girl you are for me, so fuckin’ good for me. Just like I fuckin’ knew you would be.”

“Fuck,” you whine. “You feel so good, Daddy. Feel so fucking good inside me—”

Leaning back, you firmly plant both your hands on his thighs and arch your body, head falling back as you pick up the pace. The burning fire casts a soft, orange glow around you and his jaw falls slack. His eyes drink in every single fucking thing about you, watch you with an adoration that, for the first time in your whole life, makes you feel wanted. Actually wanted.

“Joel,” you whisper his name over and over. You’re both beginning to lose track of where you end and he begins. You can hardly hear the praises that are spilling from his plush lips over the squelching wet sounds of your cunt sliding up and down his cock. There’s no chance to warn him—your mouth parts in a silent scream as you come undone on him.

“M’so fuckin’ close,” Joel grunts. He feels his cock twitch as your pussy grips him like a vice. “Where? Where do you want it, pretty girl?”

“Inside me. Please, I need you to come inside me,” you plead him, the innocent tone of your voice the last thing to push him over the edge he’s teetering on. “Fill me up, Daddy—please, want every drop of you inside me—”

Joel reaches for your arms and yanks you forward, into him. Throwing them around his neck, his own arms wrap around you and roughly slam you down onto him, holding you firmly in place. He bucks his hips upwards, balls tightening, his cock pulsing as he comes. Strings of hissed curse words and deep gutteral groans muffle when he drops his face into your collarbone. Still holding you in place, he spills his load into you, his seed filling you to the brim.

He sags back against the couch and pulls you with him. Wrapping his arms tighter around you, he lets himself stay buried inside of you, the primal in him relishing the heavenly feeling of his come dripping messily out of your pussy and all over his thighs.

“You alright, sweetheart?” he asks after a minute.

“M’perfect,” you mumble against his chest. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re coming down from a high or if it’s because he’s tracing patterns on your shoulder blade with his finger, but you shiver in his arms.

“Let me get the blanket—”

Joel starts to move to get up, but you stop him.

“No, please don’t,” you say, pushing him back. You put all of your weight onto him, as if he can’t move you off to the side if he really wanted to. “I—I want you inside me for a little while longer. Please.”

“But baby, you’re cold—”

You don’t bother explaining to him that you’re not.

“Just hold me. Please.”

And that’s exactly what he does.

Snuggling into him, you close your eyes and Joel’s hand strokes at your hair. Between that, the thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek and the sound of the fireplace crackling behind you, you’re nearly soothed into sleep.

“Joel?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“I hate Thanksgiving,” you admit, smiling tiredly to yourself when you feel a laugh rumble in his chest.

“Do you, now?”

You nod. “I do. But I’m really thankful for you.”

Giving you a gentle squeeze, Joel kisses the top of your head and murmurs, “Well, m’thankful for you too, sweet girl.” He pauses momentarily. “I ain’t all too sure how I’m s’pposed to just let you go home. I know I have to but—”

Lifting your head off of his chest, you take the side of his face and cradle it in your palm. You meet his gaze, heart sinking when you see the sadness that has replaced the lust from earlier.

He doesn’t mean home to your parents’ house. He means Chicago.

You graze his beard with your thumb. “I’m coming back in a few weeks,” you remind him, gently. “I’ve only planned to spend a week out here just for the holidays, but I can visit sooner. As soon as the kids go on winter break, I can come back to Austin.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course I would, Joel. I’m not sure how it would work what with my parents and all, though. I don’t want them catching onto us.”

“C’mere.” Joel brushes your lips with his before he makes his promise. “I’ll figure it out, baby. Leave it all to me and I’ll figure it out.”

divider credit to @saradika-graphics 🤎

#asdfghjkl BYE #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #dbf!joel #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x y/n #joel miller au #dbf joel miller #dbf joel x reader #fic: someone to be thankful for

3K notes · View notes